


Strays

by MissMorwen



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Blood and Violence, Captain America: The Winter Soldier Compliant, F/M, Gratuitous Smut, Not Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie) Compliant, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-18
Updated: 2015-04-18
Packaged: 2018-03-23 14:21:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 32,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3771466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMorwen/pseuds/MissMorwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why did you come here?”<br/>“I needed to hide, needed to think.” There was a slight furrow in his brow again.<br/>“Think about what?” She tilted her head, trying to catch his eyes. He looked in her direction, but with an unfocused gaze.<br/>“The man, he – he knew me. And I knew him.” The knuckles on his right hand were turning white.</p>
<p>********<br/>You know how the story goes: Fucked-up former assassin meets girl. Girl is a cliché vet with a tendency to help birds with broken wings. All the usual stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

In the age of superheroes, what exactly did you do when your property had been broken into? Call the police, hope for a hero to rescue you, or play the hero yourself? Callie Guerra would have preferred not to worry about this particular dilemma, but there she was - in the front lot of the long ago closed Guerra's Garage, looking at a bloodstain on the open door.

Breathing in deeply, Callie stepped closer to the door, noting the broken lock, digging through her purse for her keys. The sunlight streaming through the open door and cracks in the garage doors only served to highlight how deep and dark the unlit garage was. With no cars in it and most of the equipment sold off it seemed more like a cave than the friendly place it had been when her parents ran it.

Callie placed a key between each finger as quietly as she could and closed her hand in a fist. The sun was warm on her back but the darkness inside seemed to draw the heat from her. She would probably have stood like that for much longer if not for the faintest of mews from the old storage room to the right in the back.  _Oh fuck, the kittens._ She couldn't complete the thought, but reached inside to flick on the light and stepped though the doorway with clenched fists and knitted brow.

It took a few steps into the blinking fluorescent light before she could take stock of her surroundings; a blood smear stained a pillar to the left, leading away from the storage room on the right. There was no indecision about checking on the cats before following the trail, but it took effort to resist feeding the hungry mother cat as well.  _Priorities, dammit_.

She saw the partly opened door to the bathroom before she noticed the blood on it. Unless the intruder had left they would probably still be inside, as the door to the office next to it seemed untouched. She strained to listen for sounds and as she closed in, the faint sound of running water could be heard over her shallow breathing. The door swung open under her hand and for a short while the room seemed empty, then she saw a dark form in one corner, black against white tiles. Someone crouched beside the sink, someone big. The intruder sat on the floor, one gloved hand on the edge of the sink. Her eyes traveled down the arm to a face obscured by a loose fitting hoodie, all she could make out of his face was a mouth with the corners turned down.

Callie swallowed, opened her mouth to speak, choked down the "Please don't hurt me," and tried again, "Um, hello?"

Very aware that she'd blocked the single route for the intruder’s escape, no point in startling him too. The gym bag clutched in front of her chest and the fist with keys poking out between her fingers would do little to protect her against someone that size.

The sound of her voice stirred him from his trance. He rose, pulling himself off the floor supported by the sink and his right side came into view, the fabric on the shoulder was dark red with blood, and below it the fabric stuck to his side like there was more on the inside. The ever present urge to save the bird with the broken wing began to push down the lingering trepidation.

"Are you hurt?”

There was a minuscule nod, almost hidden by the hoodie. She stepped closer, but was mirrored by him with a step back and she stopped immediately, putting her hands up.

“I’m not gonna hurt you, but maybe you should see a doctor?”

His head jerked up, causing the hoodie to fall back a bit to reveal a pair of wild gray eyes. There was a look like a trapped animal on his face, eyes darting between her and the doorway behind her and instinct took over.

"Right. Stay where you are, I'll help." Callie dropped her gym bag and ran up to her apartment to get medical supplies before she could regret her decision. It was a cliché, but it was situations like this that had made her want to become a veterinary physician. Well, not exactly like this, her patients were usually smaller and covered in fur or feathers, but the point still stood.

When she got back down the man was right where she left him, his face void of emotions. Getting him to corporate was easier than expected; he removed his hoodie and gloves readily when asked to. His upper body was covered in cuts and bruises, some already yellowing at the edges, but the thing that caught her attention was his left arm. She was used to prosthetics, she’d even fitted a few on pets with wealthy owners, but this was something else. Interlocking plates shaped like a normal, if quite muscular arm. It was beautiful and straight out of a sci-fi flick.

Once she had cleaned the blood from his skin it became clear that the cut on the shoulder didn’t need stitches, it looked several days old and only one side of it had been reopened recently. Probably while he broke open the door to the garage, she noted sourly. It and the rest would heal on their own and just needed bandages. The shoulder was clearly dislocated, though. Instead of the usual outward curve of the deltoid down to the triceps, the acromion was sticking out above a deflated deltoid. It looked like an anterior dislocation, but she had to be sure.

“I’m going to examine your shoulder and it will probably hurt a great deal. Will you be okay with that?” She searched his eyes for a clue to how he would react to pain, but got no reaction besides a small nod. He didn’t even meet her eyes.

Callie prodded and poked his shoulder, while gently angling his arm this way and that. She should be able to fix it if she could just— A movement to her right interrupted her thoughts and she realized that it was his metal arm: the fingers curling up in a fist while the arm slowly pulled back.

“Hey,” she said in a low voice, stepping away and into his direct line of sight. “I’m sorry it hurts, but I am really just trying to help.”

He blinked, looked down at his fist, and flexed his fingers. Brow furrowed, he repeated the minute nod.

“I need you to trust me. Well, relax and not hurt me mostly, but also trust me.” Eyes shifting between his eyes and mouth she searched for something, anything, to clue her into his thoughts.

As a vet she was used to uncommunicative patients, but they generally came with someone who could carry the conversation for them. Under normal circumstances she was pretty apt at reading body language she got little from him. He reacted when asked to, but showed no outwards sign of what went on in his head.

“Your shoulder’s dislocated and I’m going to have to pop it back in without local anesthetics. Because, well, I don’t have any.” Callie turned, picked up the bags, and motioned him to follow her out of the bathroom and into the office.

While dusty, the office was probably still cleaner than the floor in the bathroom, but more importantly it still held the old desk for him to lie on. He got onto the desk, while she explained the procedure and stayed perfectly still while she climbed up to stand beside him.

“You need to relax your shoulder for me to be able to do this.”

He nodded again without looking at her and raised his arm to her, she bend down and took hold of his wrist while placing her foot in his armpit. The jolt when the head of the humerus popped back in place could be felt as clearly as heard, but again he showed no reaction besides a small frown. His lack of reaction to pain stimuli was disturbing and worryingly animalistic.

Callie jumped off the desk and got the medical tape. He was standing when she turned back, head low with the hair hiding his face, while slowly working the shoulder.

“I’m gonna tape you up, so the shoulder won’t pop out again. And you should probably think about getting a sling for it. It should be better in a few days. In the mean time please don’t strain it.” Ever the professional.

If not for her high heeled pumps it would have been awkward work, he was probably three or four inches taller than her, but the heels made up for that a bit. While she taped the shoulder up his stomach growled and she fought to keep a grin from her face. He raised his metal hand and rubbed it over his stomach.

“You hungry?” The sight of the metal against his well defined muscles was more fascinating than it should have been in the situation. She definitely wasn’t used to this dilemma with her patients.

A single nod was again his only response. There was uncertainty painted all over his face, he looked like a lost child. She dug out the lunch she had skipped earlier in the day and handed it to him. He didn’t even sit down, but unwrapped the sandwich and bit into it immediately.

The whole situation was completely absurd, the two of them in a dusty garage, her in slacks and dress shirt fit for office work and him shirtless and bandaged while wolfing down a sandwich. His hoodie left in the bathroom probably hadn’t gotten any cleaner while she patched him up, but he couldn’t walk around with a bare chest no matter how nice it looked.

“You haven’t got any other clothes, have you?”

He looked up from the sandwich and shook his head. As someone with a career where getting pissed on happened at least every other week, Callie almost always had spare clothes somewhere near her. The dress shirt in her purse wouldn’t come close to fitting him, but the big sweatshirt in her gym bag probably would.

“Look, if I help you out again you’re going to have to respond with more than a nod or shake. Deal?” She smiled to show she was only joking, but he stared back at her with a frown. It seemed fitting that he was as bad at reading her body language as she was with his.

Together they managed to get him in the sweatshirt without raising his arm. While it was a woman’s XL, it was still clearly too tight at the shoulders and not long enough anywhere, but it was better than nothing. She motioned for him to sit in a chair next to the desk while he finished the sandwich, put a bottle of water beside him, and jumped onto the desk to sit crossed legged.

No longer preoccupied with his injuries, or distracted by his bare chest, she finally let herself get a good look at him. He looked like he’d been to hell and back – dark rings circled light gray eyes and his face was covered with stubbles several days old. Brown hair hung limply on either side of his face, partly covering it.

He made her want to wrap him up in a blanket to keep the bad things away. She wasn’t stupid enough to try that, though. It was one thing to help the obviously injured person who’d broken into her property, but adopting him was taking it a bit too far. Her apartment was already filled with stray cats she’d taken in, no need to add to the pack. Yeah, she was a living cliché.

The clothes looked new, suspiciously so. Judging from the creases in the pants and the pristine look of the shoes they were both brand new. When you combined that with the fucking metal arm there was no way she could keep deluding herself and it took more than a little effort to wait till he finished eating before she began questioning him.

“Were you involved in the thing at the Potomac yesterday?”

He began to nod, but then answered, “Yes.”

“Are you with SHIELD or HYDRA?”

He seemed confused by the question. “I don’t know.”

“Did you hurt innocent people?”

Also a too complicated a question.

 “Do you plan on hurting me?”

That one was apparently easier and he answered “No,” without hesitation.

“Why did you come here?”

“I needed to hide, needed to think.” There was a slight furrow in his brow again.

“Think about what?” She tilted her head, trying to catch his eyes. He looked in her direction but with an unfocused gaze.

“The man, he – he knew me. And I knew him.” The knuckles on his right hand were turning white.

“Hey, it’s okay. Hey, hey.” She jumped off the desk and crossed the space between them to kneel before him, her hand on his human one. “Everybody forgets things from time to time.”

He was so clearly messed up, it made her stomach knot up to look at, body straining against an invisible bond, eyes showing white all around the iris despite the lowered brow. She wanted to help, but had no idea how to besides what she’d already done.

“Easy, soldier. Remember, don’t strain the shoulder.”

Again he didn’t register the joke and responded immediately by relaxing his entire upper body, his face blanking. She leaned against the desk next to him, close enough to touch if he needed a calming hand, but still giving him space.

“So, who was he?” She tried, and failed, to sound casual. Not that he noticed.

“Steve, Steve Rogers. He called me a friend.” The eyebrows furrowed again, the corners of his lips turned down.

 “Steve Rogers? As in Captain America?”

“He said I was his friend.” He stared straight ahead at nothing. “I just can’t remember…”

 “Hang on. I can help with that one.” She dug through her purse for the flyer she’d grabbed the other day. “There’s an exhibit at the Smithsonian about him. Maybe you should check it out.”

He didn’t register that she tried to hand him the flyer and she put it on the table, trying to cover for her awkwardness.

There were probably more questions she should be asking him, but she couldn’t come up with any she thought he could, or would, answer. And yeah, she was clearly running away, but he was barely even aware that she was still in the room. Besides she’d done what she could already. Things would make more sense in the morning. A good night’s sleep always helped, right? Gave you perspective and shit.

“You need anything else?”

He looked up at her finally, opened his mouth, but then closed it again, eyes unfocused again before they left her face. “No. Nothing.”

“Look, you can stay here if you need a place to crash. I’ll even let the broken lock slide if that is the last trouble you’re causing me. I’ll be down here again in the morning and I’ll leave you some more food. But, um, I need that shirt back at some point. Yeah?”

The only reaction she got was a single nod.

Before she left, Callie fed the cat and got a couple of old blankets plus a sleeping pad from her brother’s scouting days and put them on the desk next to the folder. Unsure what to do or say, she simply picked up her stuff and left. When she closed the front door behind her, she realized that she hadn’t asked the most obvious question: his name.

 

* * *

 

The night had provided the rest Callie had needed, but she still wasn’t sure what to do with the intruder. As far as she’d been able to find out last night, no one was looking for a guy with a prosthetic metal arm. Whether that meant he wasn’t a danger to her or that he was such high level hush-hush that no one outside assorted governmental agencies could be told was impossible to tell, but at least he wasn’t on any public wanted list. That had to count for something, right?

While she fidgeted with putting her long brown hair in a loose bun she finally made her mind up. She would do what she always did – help out.

Finding him something to wear wasn’t a problem, she still had some of her parents old clothes from when she lost them almost two years ago. Within a month Callie had lost her fiancé due to the fact that he was a fucking cheater and her parents in a car accident. She had been less than stellar in dealing with the loss. Thankfully her brother Marco had moved in with her in their old home and helped with just about everything.

There were still a few boxes she should probably have given to goodwill at least a year ago, but now some of it could now be used by her latest charity case. Her dad had been about the same height as the man downstairs, if not nearly as slim around the waist, but a belt could fix that problem. When she had finished packing the clothes and food into a plastic bag, she rolled a couple of ten dollar bills up in a black baseball cap and stuck it down the side. She could afford it, dammit.

The door to the garage was properly closed when she got downstairs. Her visitor had apparently made an attempt to fix it and cleaned the blood off it. The part of the metal frame that had been distorted when he had forced the door open was now more or less straight again. While the lock needed to be replaced, at least it wasn’t apparent from the street that the door had been forced open. The door to the office was also closed and Callie was so unsure if it would be weird to knock that she ended up leaving the bag outside and hurried over to the cats in the storage room.

The rest of the day flew by and she didn’t think about the intruder until she stood in front of the door to the garage after work, hesitating again. Her reaction to him perplexed her. She wanted to wrap him in a blanket, but at the same time very aware that he could, and probably would if she did so, kill her with ease. The man had a bionic arm, for crying out loud, she would have heard about it if that had become standard issue. Not to mention the amount of injuries he had, you didn’t get those unless you were involved in some serious fighting.

The dilemma was quickly solved when she entered the garage. The door to the office was open as she had hoped and the plastic bag she’d packed for him was gone, but so was he. The room was empty again except for the blankets and sleeping pad with her shirt folded next to them. It didn’t look like he was coming back.

A strange mixture of relief and disappointment filled her. The risk that she would have adopted him like one of the strays she had taken in over the years had been greater than she’d like to admit. _You adopt stray animals, not adults. Christ, Callie._

Conflicting feelings or not, she still stuck with her plans. Did her hair and makeup, put on a slinky dress, and went out with her two closest friends. She was a responsible thirty year-old woman, not a fucking teenager, and she was going to take advantage of that and get drunk like the adult she was. 

When they met at the restaurant, it took her friends exactly twenty minutes to decide that she was keeping something from them.

“It’s about a man, right?” Sara guessed.

“No,” said Laura, scrutinizing their friend. “She’d be smiling if it was that.”

Callie just stared back at them. How did you explain the situation in a way that wouldn’t make her sound crazy?

“Oh, oh, oh. I know. He’s married!” Sara sounded almost gleeful.

“No, he isn’t married.” Callie snapped back.

Laura just raised one eyebrow at her while Sara giggled. In the end she tried to stick as close to the truth as possible, while lying about every single detail that made her sound crazy and said she’d met a veteran at work and treated his dog. He was cute if lacking a bit in the grooming department, and that he was also very clearly troubled. She didn’t know if she would see him again or if she even wanted to as he’d left without them exchanging contact information. The rest of the evening had descended into a fog of alcohol and solving the problems of the world.

When Callie returned home she was stumbling drunk, but in a much better mood. In fact she was in such a good mood she decided to google for pictures the crash in the Potomac, if 4 AM wasn’t the right time to google the hot intruder guy, she didn’t know when it was. You weren’t supposed to crush on someone so obviously broken, but you also were supposed to call the police on intruders not feed them. Yeah, she was clearly a responsible adult.

It wasn’t hard to find pictures; the hard thing was finding what she was looking for. Every news site in America had pictures of the crash, both by professional photographers and by people with cell phones, but it was on a message board she found pictures of Captain America being dragged out of the water to the side of the Potomac by a figure all dressed in black. Well, not all dressed in black, his left arm looked like it was covered in shining metal.

The pictures were too grainy for her to make out more than the metallic arm and long dark hair, but it was all she needed. His connection to Captain America was apparently real and he rescued him; that had to be a good thing, right? A bad guy wouldn’t save Captain America from drowning. Right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The sounds he’d made should have been a warning, he’d sounded like a trapped animal, an animal in pain. But she reacted to his distress like he wasn’t someone fighting to regain his humanity and got punished for it.
> 
> **********  
> You know how the story goes: Fucked-up former assassin meets girl. Girl likes FUFA and invites him to stay. All the usual stuff.

While throwing up on her clothes was usually the most annoying trait with her cats, the following morning it was their inability to respect her need for more than a few hours of sleep. They still had some dry food left from before she’d stumbled in bed, but that wasn’t good enough. If she could feed them at 7 AM during weekdays, she could damn well better believe that would also be the case on Saturdays. Hung-over or not.

She’d planned to skip the gym that day and instead run a few miles on the treadmill in her old bedroom and maybe, if she felt up to it, work out with the dumbbells for a while afterwards. The plan changed as she fed the cats. The smell of the boiled chicken was somehow delicious enough to turn the hint of hunger into a black hole in the pit of her stomach.

Breakfast consisted of a considerable more delicious omelet than the chicken and rice mixed with various minerals and vitamins the cats had gotten. Both meals were eaten with similar enthusiasm, though. Afterwards she curled up on the couch with a cat and a book only to wake up several hours later with the book on the floor and all three cats on top of her. While her head appreciated the extended nap, the rest of her body wasn’t quite as impressed with being immobilized for so long and it took several minutes of stretching before she limbered up enough to start a slow jog on the treadmill. After a shower and a late lunch, she almost felt human again and even managed to put on some mascara before making it downstairs to the kittens.

The kittens were so used to her handling them that even the runt of the litter let her pick it up and look it over. Callie was examining the kittens’ ears and had stepped closer to the door for more light when she noticed movement near the front door.

The mystery man had returned.

The kitten’s mew snapped her from the trance and she set it down to move from the storage room out into the main garage. Despite her soft steps in likewise soft shoes, he turned from the door towards her before she exited the room. He wore the clothes she had given him, but had an Army surplus duffel slung over one shoulder. The black cap barely hid the state of his long and greasy hair and the stubbles had gone from scruffy to badly needing a shave, but he somehow looked more like a human being now and less like a hollow shell. Her gut tightened as he continued to stare at her.

“I don’t think we were ever properly introduced,” she said, somewhat surprised by how calm her voice sounded. “I’m Callisto Guerra, Callie. I own this place.”

“James Buchanan Barnes,” he looked like he expected a reaction from her, but it didn’t ring any bells.

“Hi James, how can I help you today?”

“I need information,” he paused, the gloved metal hand on the strap to the duffel tightening and relaxing. “I’m usually provided with the information I need, but I… things have changed.”

Callie reached into her back pocket for her smartphone, unlocked it, and opened a browser window on Google. Before handing it to him, she paused and looked up.

“Are we talking checking the bus schedule or like in-depth articles and stuff?”

“In-depth.” Of that at least he seemed certain.

Before she could question the prudence of the decision she invited him up to her apartment to use her computer. It had taken her exactly two days to go from please-don’t-kill-me to welcome-into-my-home-sir. Yeah, she had the survival instincts of a lemming heading for the cliffs.

 

* * *

  

The laptop still sat on the dining table where Callie had left it last night, but at least she’d remembered to close the browser and the pictures of a man in black dragging another man in primary colors out of the Potomac wasn’t the first thing visible on the screen as she flipped it open. She even managed to surreptitiously clear the search history while the man in question hung his jacket and put his boots where she’d indicated.

After a quick introduction, she slid the laptop over to James and let him loose. He typed using the impractical hunt and pick, two fingered approach, but after the initial hesitation he seemed more at ease. That was something at least. Not wanting to seem nosy she left him to it and went into the kitchen to do the dishes.

Callie was far from a creative cook, but she had about six dishes she could always fall back on and a quick rummage through her fridge told her that tonight’s dinner would have to consist of chicken and frozen greens. She really needed to fill up her fridge.

Once she was done she hesitated with the two filled plates in hand before walking into the living room and silently putting one next to James and the other on the coffee table for herself. When she returned with a couple of large glasses of water James was already digging into his plate, eyes locked on the screen. The reflection on the framed picture behind him showed a white page with writing on it, and she looked away before she was tempted to try to read the mirrored text.

She hadn’t even realized that she’d fallen asleep after dinner until she opened her eyes and saw that the only light in the room came from the light from the laptop. Her guest still worked on the computer, hunched over like when she’d last seen him, but he’d removed his cap, the hair flat against his skull. He apparently noticed her staring at him and looked over the screen at her. How he could even make her out in the gloom with the light in his eyes and her was a wonder, but he clearly met her eyes.

“You finding the info you need?” She sounded strangled and had to clear her throat a couple of times.

“Some of it.”

“Look, this is just a wild guess but the info dump from SHIELD the other day could have some of what you’re looking for.” She was rambling, but was unable to stop herself. “Have you found the wiki on it yet? I don’t know how much is on it, only heard about it yesterday.”

He just looked at her blankly.

“It’s easier if I show you.”

As she opened a new tab to search for the new wiki, she caught a glimpse of the article he was reading. She was definitely on target, the acronym SHIELD had nearly jumped at her eyes before she’d looked away. Good to know, as he was pretty uncommunicative and she had the conversational skills of a potato whenever he looked at her. She found the new wiki with the first try and turned the computer back to face him.

“I don’t even wanna know now much was uploaded, but it looks like people are still adding to the wiki. I don’t know if you’ll be able to find everything you’re looking for, but at least there’s a chance.”

He looked at her as she got up, his eyes pale and gray in the cold light of the screen. “Thank you.”

She smiled and put her hand on his shoulder, forgetting that the left one was metal until her fingers met hard metal under soft cloth and almost jumped at the touch. Embarrassed by her own reaction, she looked away from his inscrutable gaze. “Yeah, no worries.”

Her cheeks were still red when she stood in front of the mirror in the bathroom brushing her teeth. _So fucking awkward_. She was awkward, he was awkward, and every single time they interacted it was awkward. She made a face at herself in the mirror. What was she supposed to do now? She couldn’t just kick him out in the middle of the night.

It would be so much easier if he had been a cat and she could just lock him in the guestroom with a box with kitty litter and water. But he was a combat trained man, inches taller than her and she didn’t even want to guess how many pounds of muscles heavier. It didn’t feel like he was a danger to her, but if he was she didn’t think she could stop him no matter how many doors she put between them. The door to the garage hadn’t stopped him and it was sturdier than the one to the apartment.

Unable to stall any longer in the bathroom she got out, looked over at the dinner table, and cleared her throat. “I’m gonna go…” She waved in the direction of the master bedroom. He didn’t even look up, completely focused on the computer.

Mumbling to herself she closed the door behind her and tried to lock it as quietly as possible. Between it and the covers pulled over her head she felt like a teenager again.

 

* * *

  

Thankfully sleep had come to her easily and by the time the cats demanded food by scratching on the closed door she was fully rested and ready to face another day. After consulting the full length mirror Callie decided to finger comb her hair and put it into a loose braid. The tank top and pajamas bottoms she had slept in would just have to do, even if she changed to look more presentable she would still end up with her foot in her mouth.

James still sat at the table, but fast asleep, head resting on the duffel with his left arm in a tight grip around it. He was very clearly dreaming, body twitching and when she got closer she could see his eyes moving behind closed lids. The computer was still on and a glance at the screen made her forget her intentions not to pry. The title of the wiki page was James “Bucky” Buchanan Barnes followed by March 10, 1917 – May 3, 1944. The picture confirmed that it wasn’t just a relative. The hair was shorter and a cocky grin played on his lips, but no one looked that much like their grandparents.

She had kind of figured that there was more to his story, but this wasn’t what she’d expected. She stepped back and managed to smack her bare ankle into the chair behind her. He was on his feet so fast she barely registered it until lips, pink and distracting, were inches from her eyes. She raised her eyes slowly to meet his, watching the gray of his eyes being swallowed up by widening pupils as he looked down at her. Yeah, exactly what she needed.

Sucking in a big calming breath didn’t help either as her chest rose with the intake of air and her breasts, only covered by the thin fabric of the top, touched his chest. She stepped back and away, breaking the hold James’ eyes had on her.

“That’s you?” she choked out, nodding at the screen. Asking partly out of curiosity and partly because of the need for a distraction while she got her body under control.

After a few long seconds he finally answered. “It _was_ me. I don’t know anymore.”

“How? I mean, if you don’t wanna tell me, that’s okay, but if you do, I would love to hear it.” Okay, she was rambling, but at least she’d stopped thinking about his lips on— _Stop it! God, Calllie…_

He rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hand and sat back down on the chair sideways. “That’s a really long story. I’m not even sure I believe it myself.”

“Aliens invaded New York a few years ago and were turned away by a god, a billionaire, and an assortment of superheroes. I can believe just about anything these days.” And the distraction would be nice too.

He spoke in short, precise sentences, describing events in a detached way that made her believe that if he remembered any of it, he _really_ didn’t want to. The only thing that gave away his discomfort was the way his hands clenched, ever so slowly, but again and again, and he only became aware of it when the whirring from his bionic arm became too loud to be ignored. He barely seemed to notice the sickle shaped cuts he dug in his flesh hand.

They had moved to the couch and gone through two pots of coffee before he was done. During the last bit, the part concerning the helicarriers cashing into the Potomac, observations were added that he couldn’t have read on the net. They were far too personal for that.

“I couldn’t complete the mission. I had to protect him. I just…” James trailed off and looked at his mismatched hands.

Callie reached over and placed her hand on his callused one, stopping him from clenching it again. “Hey. You did protect him. They said on the news he should be getting out of hospital today.”

His lack of reaction said almost as much as if he had reacted and she didn’t push it, but offered him a way out instead by asking, “how’s the shoulder?”

He shot her a brief sideways glance, and rotated the shoulder in its joint. “All healed up. I removed the tape yesterday.”

“You removed the— See, this is why I’m a veterinary instead of working with people. Fine, will you at least let me examine it?”

It was impossible to tell if he was messing with her, but at least he slipped his right arm out of the shirt and stood up to allow her free access.

As it turned out, he had been right about the healing of the shoulder. Of course he had. A careful examination showed none of the swelling of the muscles normally found in a joint so recently dislocated. While she couldn’t compare to his other shoulder to be sure, everything felt normal, firm but not inflamed.

To top it off then the bruises were mostly gone, only a big one across his chest still visible as more than a shadow. The big cut on his shoulder had closed and was just a raised line across otherwise unscarred skin, the rest had disappeared almost completely. His healing abilities were amazing.

 

There was a point when the unfamiliar becomes familiar and Callie hadn’t realized that she’d reached it until she pulled her legs up under her on the couch where the two of them were eating lunch. James was still a stranger, but his company felt comfortable.

She’d prepared their lunch while he had showered and afterwards been thankful for the break her own shower provided. Seeing him freshly shaven with the still damp hair pulled back using one of her hair bands had more than disturbed her calm. While he was pretty striking even with the whole hobo look, he cleaned up looking equal parts fuckable and vulnerable. Those eyes were going to be her doom.

He’d waited to begin his lunch until she’d joined him this time, but he still managed to finish his much bigger portion before she was even halfway through hers.

“You still hungry?”

“Yeah, sorry.”

“I’m going to have to buy in bulk with you living here,” she laughed, not realizing what she’d said till he looked at her.

“Living here?” His face was perfectly blank, but she could see the muscles at his jaw working.

“Yeah, I mean, if you want to.”

He held her gaze for longer than felt comfortable, cool gray eyes looking into undoubtedly worried brown ones, and then nodded.

With his empty plate in hand she walked to the kitchen faster than she’d wanted to. _Familiar, my ass_.

When she returned with more sandwiches and carrots piled high on the plate she found him surveying the living room.  It was an odd mix, her modern furniture clashed against the colorful carpet and patterned wall paper now as much as it had when she’d moved in two years ago. It had only been supposed to be temporary, only living in the property left behind by her parents while she figured out what to do with her life after ending the longest relationship she had been in. But months had turned into years and while she now slept in the master bedroom and had turned both Marco’s and hers old bedrooms into a home gyms, she still couldn’t get herself to remove the carpet and wallpaper that reminded her of her parents, let alone think about selling the place.

“It’s not much to look at, but it’s home,” she said with an apologetic shrug.

“This room alone is bigger than my last apartment,” he replied with a wry look on his face.

“Oh, so you remember it?”

James paused, staring blankly at her. “I have no idea why I said that.” He looked away, got up and started pacing. “When I said it, I was so certain of it. Now... Now, it’s like a feeling, just out of reach.”

“How much of what you’ve told me is memory and how much is stuff you’ve read?”

“Most is what I’ve read. When I read about it I get flashes, sometimes. Or when I think or talk about it. Sometimes it’s only smells and sounds, but it’s slowly filling in. There are things I know how to do, but I don’t remember ever learning them. Or even doing them.” He sat down on the couch hard enough to push it back slightly.

She wanted to reach out to him, but at the same time very aware that decades of torture wasn’t going to go away just because she patted his hand.

“You know I just want to help you, right?”

He nodded without looking at her.

“If anything I say or do hurts you have to tell me. Like right away.”                                  

He just nodded again.

“I’m fucking serious.”

This time there was a reaction, he shot her a sidelong glance with a glimmer in his eyes that almost looked like humor.

“Okay, then. ‘Cause I’ve got questions and my bedside manners are distinctly lacking.” She really wished she could stop it with the bad jokes, it was like a nervous tic. “Have you thought about what you’re gonna do? I mean, you said you needed time to think when I found you.”

“I don’t know.” He sighed deeply. “I thought it would all be clear when I got the information I needed. I’ve read all I could find about SHIELD and HYDRA and the people involved. About _me_ , about Steve… But, I still don’t know what to do.” He looked down at his hands, long fingers curled up in fists, clenched so tightly a faint whirring sound came from the metal arm. “I know what I _want_ to do, but that’s not an option for me right now. It would be too easy to return to—” He slumped back in the couch.

“Maybe you should go see Steve?”

“I’m not the person he knew. I can’t be, probably never will be again.” He dismissed her without even looking at her.

“I’m pretty sure he doesn’t expect you to. And I’m pretty sure he’s not the same either.”

He looked at her this time, face completely inscrutable. “It’s not that simple.”

“No, nothing ever is. At least not with the hard choices.”

They sat in silence for a while with only the occasional engine in the street outside and the gentle tap of rain on the windows as a background noise. Finally Callie got up and went into the kitchen with their plates, going through the fridge and pantry to make a list of groceries. She had enough cat food for the foreseeable future, but was distinctly lacking in the human food category, especially now that she had a second, and near insatiable, mouth to feed.

Before she went out she showed the owner of said mouth where everything was. The guestroom was ready for an occupant, she usually kept the door closed in order to keep the cats from claiming the bed as their territory, and she suggested that James could keep his duffel there instead of dragging it everywhere. He didn’t seem to agree, but was more open to her second suggestion of him sleeping while she went out shopping. He clearly needed it.

When she returned, hands filled with shopping bags, she heard the sounds of distress from the guestroom. Dumping her keys and purse in the hallway, she pushed the door to the guestroom open. She only got a glimpse of James sleeping form on the bed before he was on his feet and closed the distance between them.

The sounds he’d made should have been a warning, he’d sounded like a trapped animal, an animal in pain. But she reacted to his distress like he wasn’t someone fighting to regain his humanity and got punished for it.

The shopping bags hit the floor at the same time as she was slammed into the wall, but she barely even registered it. His metal hand was wrapped around her neck, lifting her cleanly off the ground in one swift move. The neck wasn’t made to support the weight of the body beneath it and she could feel ligaments and muscles stretch painfully. She gripped his wrist, frantically trying to take some of the strain off her neck, but it was useless, she was too panicked to gather the strength need to lift herself in the awkward position.

“James, please,” she gasped.

But he stared at her without seeing, with eyes cold as winter.

“James!” She tried desperately to find the professional tone he obeyed so promptly before, but she only sounded distressed, her voice thin and whiney.

“Please.” Softly this time. Something changed in his eyes. He blinked and suddenly saw her again, letting go with an almost inaudible gasp.

She collapsed on the floor among the groceries, clutching her neck, gasping for air. It took several seconds before she could look up. Angry with herself for making such a stupid fucking mistake. Animals and humans might be different on a lot of counts, but one rule went for both: you didn’t rush at someone having a panic attack, especially not when you don’t have their fucking trust. It was like psychology 101. When she finally looked up she felt cold inside. His hands were clasped so tightly into fist he was shaking, the metal arm whirring loudly.

“So, we’ve better come up with some ground rules,” she began, getting up slowly, carefully. “First, I won’t enter your room unless invited. Second, I won’t touch you unless I have your expressed permission. Third, I’ll do my very best not to startle you again. With me so far?”

The confusion on his face clear, but he nodded.

“Fourth, and this is in no way a payment for the first ones, you will seek help. Preferably by contacting Steve, but a V.A. counselor will do. I can patch you up and feed you, and I can listen as long as you need me to, but this in here.” She tapped her temple lightly. “I don’t have enough experience with to keep me from messing you up further.”

Expressions flitted across his face, different degrees of anxiety mostly, but she was sure there was a brief look of relief and she clung to the hope that this was the right decision, that she wasn’t pushing him away.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She wanted to stay there, just looking at him, but it wasn’t polite to stare people, even when they repeatedly broke into your property. With a twinge of regret she cleared her throat loudly enough to wake him and continued into the room. She stopped half way into the room by the dinner table to hang her gym bag on a chair. There was a very real risk that if she continued and sad down next to James on the couch she would fix his hair. You generally shouldn’t mess with other people’s hair unless you were close to them, even if they had half-killed their ponytail by sleeping with it in a hoodie. Especially when the person I question was a recovering from pretty brutal trauma amongst things.
> 
> ************
> 
> You know how the story goes: Fucked-up former assassin meets girl. Girl likes FUFA and invites him to stay. FUFA reconnects with his past and breaks into her place, again. All the usual stuff.

The next day, Callie still wasn’t sure it had been the right decision, but there was no turning back, the contact had been made and Captain fucking America waited for them. The contact information had been provided by her CIA brother without further questions when she’d claimed it was because she wanted his autograph for Laura’s birthday. The birthday was still several months away, but he didn’t know that.

She had made the call to Rogers herself, her voice calm despite the storm inside. James had looked at her the entire time, eyes unreadable. He had been unwilling to make the call and she could clearly imagine how awkward the conversation would be. _‘Hi, I tried to kill you, but I’m pretty sure I’m over that now. Wanna meet up for a cup of coffee?’ Yeah, right._

Looking at James putting on a jacket and cap she wished again that she could read him more easily. Watching him was like listening to a badly tuned in station, while there were times when the broadcast came though clear and strong, the rest of the time it was snatches of conversations she wasn’t sure she understood or long periods of static. Right now his face looked blank and his body mostly relaxed, but his hands clutched so tightly around the strap to the ever present duffel that she could see the strain even through the black leather gloves.

She shrugged on her brown leather jacket and grabbed the keys to her car, “Ready?”

He simply nodded and followed her down to her car.

She had picked out the car originally because of its small size, easier to park and practical in an urban environment, but now it felt too small. It fit her like a glove, but it clearly wasn’t a great match for his long legs and broad shoulders. In the confined area his presence was almost like a physical touch on her skin, like being caressed by electricity, pleasurable and painful at the same time. Several times she had to stop herself from looking at him instead of the road. The hoodie turned up over his cap did a pretty good job of hiding him, but his hunched up posture with the duffel clutched to his chest spoke more clearly of his state of mind than his face would have.

Looking over at him for the millionth time Callie saw he was looking back at her.

“I’m sorry I attacked you yesterday,” he said with the perfectly blank expression back on his face.

“Yeah, no, that’s okay. I shouldn’t have startled you.” She hoped the warmth she could feel spreading on her cheeks wasn’t visible in the morning light. Still not over the fact that she had acted so foolishly.

“I was having this dream, where my arm hurt,” he said shifting the left arm, the metal one. “And this man was working on it. He had your eyes.”

“Oh yeah?”

“He was tall, heavy set, and had short dark hair. Behind him was a woman wringing her hands. She had long dark hair like you, but curly. And your mouth.” James was now turned completely towards her, his shoulders blocking most of the passenger side window.

“Are you trying to tell me you dreamt about my parents?” It was so absurd it made her smile a little.

“Is that who they are?” His voice was hard; he apparently couldn’t see the humor in the situation.

“There’s a huge picture hanging behind the dinner table with them, my brother, and myself. It’s about fifteen years old, but still pretty recognizable.”

He was silent for the rest of the drive, when they finally arrived at the building Callie pulled the car up to the curb and turned off the car.

“Why do you keep helping me?” James asked before she had a chance to say anything. He looked at her, brow furrowed.

“Because you need the help?” she answered with an apologetic shrug. “You looked lost and were obviously hurt when I saw you. After that I really don’t know, one thing sort of followed the next.”

He clearly wasn’t satisfied with the answer.

“I broke into your property and instead of calling the police you helped me. Why?”

“I don’t know, basic human compassion?  You were hurt and you looked at me like you were begging for help.” She didn’t tell him about the things his mouth alone made her want to do to him, because you didn’t admit a thing like that to someone you’ve only know for a couple of days. Especially not with someone so fucked-up by his past, no matter his reaction the first time she’d woken him. “Can you just believe me when I say I want to help you?”

James kept staring at her, like she said all the wrong things making him more disappointed by the second. Her stomach knotted up again, and not in a pleasant way.

“Look, I’m sorry I’m so fucking awkward,” she looked away, head against the headrest, and stared out of the window shield. The blush was moving down her neck and she was sure it was visible now. “I’m usually good at reading people, but I get absolutely nothing from you. So I make stupid jokes and stare way too much.”

The sound of the door opening interrupted her in her self pity and when she looked over he was out of the car with his duffel in hand. She wanted to smack her head into the steering wheel. _Callie, you fucking idiot._

Thankfully the rest of the day went by pretty much without incidents. Callie refused to think about coming home to an empty apartment, because really, he had been living with her for a couple of days most of which had been awkward. There was no reason for him to return. Not only had no plans been made for her to pick him up before he’d left the car in a huff, but she had no means of contacting him that didn’t involve calling Rogers for what would be the most awkward conversation. Her need to act like an idiot around James ranked kinda low when compared with the help a childhood friend, fellow veteran, and generally more competent person could provide.

And so the day went on and she even managed to fake a good mood even when Laura texted her about meeting for a cup of coffee Wednesday. _Sure, lets meet, I’ve got no plans other than getting over a crush on a fucking cyborg._ Life had been so much less complicated just a few years ago. Her life had been on track to the 1.9 children and a house in the ‘burbs, and she didn’t have to check up on friends and family every few years when superheroes and –villains battled it out in major cities. But most of all there hadn’t been the risk of falling for one of said supes.

 

It took a two hour session at the gym to clear her head, and she felt a lot better afterwards. Her legs were heavy as she made it up the stairs after checking on the cats in the garage, but she felt strong, capable. However the calm was gone the second she stepped from the hallway into the living room and saw the four sleeping forms on her couch. She looked back down the hall to check the door. Not surprisingly it looked like it always did and the only key to it was where she’d just put it on the dresser. But still, there was James curled up asleep on the couch with one cat on his hip and the two other in a tangled mess by his feet.

Not even asleep did he look relaxed, his hands curled up into fists around the duffel’s strap and the more or less ever present frown furrowed his brows. The contrast between the contentment of the furry bodies next to his tense one made even starker by the fact that he still wore his boots and leather gloves as well as the jacket and hoodie. Callie should probably be annoyed with the boots on her couch, but she wasn’t. Not even a little bit.

She wanted to stay there, just looking at him, but it wasn’t polite to stare people, even when they repeatedly broke into your property. With a twinge of regret she cleared her throat loudly enough to wake at least one of the four sleeping forms on the couch and continued into the room. She stopped half way into the room by the dinner table to hang her gym bag on a chair. There was a very real risk that if she continued and sad down next to James on the couch she would fix his hair. You generally shouldn’t mess with other people’s hair unless you were close to them, even if they had half-killed their ponytail by sleeping with it in a hoodie. Especially when the person I question was a recovering from pretty brutal trauma amongst things.

 “I thought you would stay with the rest of the superheroes,” Callie said with a forced smile. “Or hero singular, as the rest of the Avengers probably don’t live in DC.” She managed to stop her rambling pretty quickly this time. She was almost proud. Or at least less embarrassed than she could have been.

“I’m not a superhero.” James’ jaw muscles clenched and unclenches while his fingers dug holes into the edge of the sofa.

“I’ve read up on what you did during WWII and I beg to differ. Plus that one,” she pointed at his left arm, “is pretty super.”

The couch slid back a couple of inches as he pushed off it and began pacing the room, all three cats now awake and looking pretty unhappy with the abrupt end to their slumber. His movements were almost predatory, with a swagger to it that she hadn’t noticed before.

“Why did you come back here?” Callie was unsure if she wanted to hear the answer, but there it was.

“He kept calling me Bucky.”

Not exactly the reason she had expected and it threw her. “That is your name, right?”

“I’m not that person anymore,” James faltered, “I’m not even sure I’ll ever become him again. There’s too much… blood and death.” Frustrated he ripped the left glove off, the metal glinted as he flexed his fingers.

“But that’s not all you are, right? I mean, you’ve been here several days and there’s been no death and the only blood was your own.” She wanted to smile encouragingly to him, but even as she said the words she could hear how hollow they sounded.

Without a word James picked up the duffel and emptied it on the dinner table. While some clothes fell out of it the main content was several knives, guns, what looked like a goddamn submachine gun, and more ammo than she could comprehend.

“And here I thought the bag was filled with precious childhood memories.” The shock was making her voice sound tinny.

While he held her gaze, James took a knife from the table and unsheathed it. “These _are_ my memories.” He grabbed her by the shoulder and spun her around to pin her with her back against his chest, the knife at her throat. “This is what I remember most vividly.” His breath warm against her ear in contrast to the cool blade.

She should have been unsettled her by this, or at the very least by the speed with which he had caught her, but unlike the last time he had trapped her he seemed completely in control of himself. Slowly, calmly, Callie put her hand against the blade and pushed it away.

“Then let’s use those memories for something more constructive.”

 

During the few weeks Marco lived with her in their parents’ old home the two of them had hung an Everlast heavy bag in his old bedroom. He’d used it for the exercise while she’d channeled her frustrations into punching the bag until she could barely feel her fingers. Now it could serve both purposes at once.

While James used a different method than the one Marco had taught her, the speed and casual ease he wrapped his hands spoke clearly of the many times he’d done it before. The metal hand got wrapped too, though probably more to protect the leather cover of the punching bag than the hand, it didn’t look like it would get damaged that easily.

Despite how tired Callie was from the workout earlier she decided to keep him company and picked up a jumping rope, starting out slowly at first but picking up speed as her muscles warmed. After a little while she noticed that they had synchronized, he hit the bag every time her feet hit the ground. She couldn’t decide if she was copying his speed or vice versa, the pace was comfortable with her worn-out legs and arms, but it wasn’t the pace she usually set for herself. She glanced over at James with his back turned to her. His head down and elbows tucked in, almost touching the sides of his torso, he looked absorbed by the repeated action. It was almost hypnotic the way his whole body jerked with each punch, muscles sliding under the sweaty t-shirt. It distracted her enough to get out of sync and her attention was jerked back to her own body when the rope hit the tip of her right foot and yanked it back mid-jump.

A curse escaped her as she stumbled, but it did nothing to help her regain her balance. One foot landed unsteadily on the floor, as she stretched her arms to steady herself from the loss of momentum the rope tangled with the other one and pulled it up, and she fell face forward to the floor.

There was an explosion of pain in her nose and she cupped it while fighting to sit up with at least a modicum of dignity. No such luck. When she looked up James was kneeling by her side, unwinding the hand wraps with a look of equal parts of concern and amusement. Pointing an accusing finger at his grin she finally noticed the blood running from her nose, her hand was dripping with it and enough had made it into her mouth that the metallic taste became overwhelming.

Grin gone, he stared blankly at her bloody hand for a few seconds before reacting. Then he tilted her head back, the cool metal of the left hand against the nape of her neck as the right one guided hers to pinch the bridge of her nose. The hand felt good on her neck, cool against the pounding in her nose.

“Stay here and don’t move.” There was a calm assertiveness to his voice. Like he’d done this many times before.

She didn’t even try to answer, blood was still tickling from her nose despite how hard she pinched it and she didn’t want any more of it in her mouth.

When he returned he was holding paper towels for the blood and ice cubes wrapped in a tea towel that he placed on her pounding nose and forehead. She followed his lead blindly as he helped her up and guided her into the living room and onto the couch.

“Are you always this graceful?” There was badly contained amusement in his voice.

“Ha, ha, very fucking funny.” Despite the pain in her nose she was smiling beneath the tea towel.

“I’m just saying, it’s impressive that you’ve made it this far in life without getting yourself killed.”

Callie moved the towel to shoot him a withering look, but the glimmer in his eyes and the quirk at the corners of his lips made even a mock look of offence impossible. “Why don’t you teach me survival skills then?”

James tilted his head, frowning slightly at her.

“I’m serious. My strategy of self-defense when I found you in the garage was more or less trying to look tough with keys in my fist and maybe a kick in the nuts if you got close.”

“If you’d punched me like that, it would probably have hurt yourself more than me. The metal’s supposed to stabilize your fist and make it heavier, not pointy,” he said with a wry smile.

“See this is exactly what I’m talking about. It’s not good for a girl’s self-esteem.” It was quite easy to look pitiful with a bloody nose. “It could be like a trade – you get to live her free of charge and in return you teach me how to survive more than a few seconds in a fight.”

“I knew this deal was too good to be true.” James made a gesture encompassing their surroundings and flopped back on the couch with a look of disappointment on his face and a glimmer in his eyes.

More relaxed than she had been in days, Callie leaned back and put the towel covered ice cubes back up on her forehead and nose again. He might not want to admit it but seeing Rogers clearly had been good for him.

 

A short while later while James was in the bathroom getting cleaned up, the phone rang and she picked it up without looking, the now very damp tea towel still on her face in the hope that it would keep the bruising to a minimum. However she sat bolt upright when the man on the other line introduced himself, the towel and ice cubes dropping into her lap.

“This is kind of embarrassing, but is Bucky with you?” He continued.

Not as embarrassing as talking with Steve freaking Rogers with a nose stuffed with blood and paper, Callie thought.

“Um, yeah he is.”

She pulled the paper from her nostril to be able to speak more clearly. Thankfully the bleeding had stopped completely and she began wiping the dried blood from her face with the damp towel. Rogers might not be able to see her over the phone, but she still felt self-conscious about it.

“That’s good,” there was a breath of relief. “He, ah, managed to dodge us after suddenly leaving—“

“Us?” It was impolite to interrupt, but apparently that didn’t stop her.

“I had a friend helping with… He’s good with dealing with veterans.”

“If it’s any consolation then it looks like it did help. He seems better today.”

“That is very good to hear.” The relief was noticeable in Rogers’ voice.

She looked up and saw James standing in the door to the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his waist, hair still wet. While she had seen his bare upper body before the circumstances were so very different. Droplets of water suited him much better than blood and bruises.

“He managed to get into my place when I was out, despite the fact that he doesn’t have a key.” Keeping her voice as dry as possible, she stared pointedly at James, trying to ignore everything below his eyes.

There was a short chuckle over the phone. “That sounds like the Bucky I know.”

“Do you want to talk with him?” She wasn’t completely sure which of the two men she was talking to now, but James answered first by closing the door. Luckily Rogers was of a similar mind.

“No, that’s okay. I don’t want to push him.”

Pausing for a beat, she raised her voice and asked, “How about he comes by the day after tomorrow?”

“Wednesday?”

“Yeah, maybe in the evening, if that’s okay?” She put a hand over the phone and raised her voice further, “James?”

A “Sure, whatever,” came from the bathroom as Rogers answered “Sure,” over the phone.

After putting down the phone and giving her face a final scrub with the towel, she perched on the arm of the couch and waiting impatiently for James to come out again.

“I wanted to discuss it with you first, but... yeah…” she began when he finally opened the door. “I don’t mean to kick you out, it’s just I’ve got a friend coming over and there’s no way I can explain this whole situation and sound reasonable. Even if I lie about just about everything.”

“Can’t you just say I’m an old friend?” He looked at her with that eerie blank expression on his face.

“I’ve known Laura since I was five and we’ve been best friends for about as long. It would be weird if she’d never heard about you till the moment you moved in with me.” Instead she had just about known him for a couple of days before she had asked him to move in and if she could scarcely rationalize it to herself, Laura would pick the reasoning apart in seconds.

“Don’t you want to see R- Steve again? You seem so much better today.”

“Just because something is helping, it doesn’t mean it’s pleasant.” He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck.

“Believe me, I know.” She wanted to hug him, but their relationship wasn’t exactly the hugging kind. Instead she went to the bathroom to wash the blood and sweat off, hoping that the act would clear her head.

 

* * *

 

When she woke in the dead of the night, she wasn’t sure at first what had woke her up, but somehow she was sure that it had been a yell. She didn’t even bother with checking the windows to see if it had come from the street, but got out of the bed straight away and went to the guest bedroom.

“James? Are you asleep?” She tried to speak softly enough that it wouldn’t wake him if he really was asleep but loudly enough for him to hear if he wasn’t.

“No.” Even through the closed door she could hear the tremble in his voice.

“Are you okay?”

“No.”

“Do you want me to leave?”

A pause then, “No.”

The door opened slowly to reveal James, hair loose and tangled, hiding his face except for a downturned mouth; his t-shirt clung to his body, wet with sweat. The bed behind him was a mess, the sheets completely tangled and partly off the bed.

As often was the case when presented with a stressful situation Callie defaulted into professional mode. “Well, you can’t sleep like this. Go wash up and change into something dry and I’ll take care of the bed.”

He nodded mutely and went to the bathroom with a clean t-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs.

The sheets as well as the pillow and matters topper were completely soaked through with sweat and she had to stop several times as she changed it to swallow the lump in her throat. A new sheet was fitted onto the mattress when she had removed the topper and old sheet, and a new pillow and bed linens added to complete the bed. It had seemed a bit easy how much better he had been in the evening.

By the time she finished with the bed she noticed him standing in the doorway, hair now dry and combed back.

“There, all better, right?” Her smile felt as forced as the chipper tone of her voice.

His movements were slow and heavy as he made his way to the bed, a far cry from the swagger he’d had earlier in the day. He didn’t get under the sheets, instead he sat leaning against the headboard one leg curled up and the other stretched out from his body. When she just remained standing he gestured at the foot of the bed. The invitation resolved her indecision and she sat quickly, folding her legs up under her.

“So, you wanna talk about it?”

“No.” The voice was low, but it had a raw edge to it.

“What then?”

“Can’t you just talk? I need to not think for a while.” He turned his head away from her.

And so she talked, about the cats in the garage and how she as a kid had rescued a pigeon with a broken wing and it had made her want to become a vet like a complete cliché. Uncomplicated subjects that didn’t involve war and people dying. After a while he stopped frowning and just looked at her while she talked. When she got to a story about how her brother had saved her and Laura from getting arrested after they had “borrowed” an expensive car, he was almost smiling. By then the room had become lighter with the rising sun and the latest yawn she had failed to suppress had made her jaws creak. Glancing at the clock she finally gave in.

“Would you be okay if I hit the sack for a couple of hours? I don’t want to fall asleep at work, probably wouldn’t look that good.”

He frowned. “I’m sorry, didn’t mean to keep you up.”

“No, it’s totally okay, I come from a family of insomniacs, I’m completely used to it,” she said with a tired grin. It was only her mom who had been the insomniac and only when her dad was away on business, but that didn’t make it any less true.

With his assurance that he was okay, she stumbled into her bed, almost asleep before her head hit the pillow. When she opened her eyes again a little under two hours later it felt only seconds had passed. The face that met her in the mirror didn’t help much as the inside corners of her eyes were noticeable blue from yesterday’s fall. Though thankfully the forehead and nose didn’t show evidence from the abuse they had taken. It took a layer of CC cream followed by powder for her to look normal again. If she looked really hard the eye sockets might show a tiny amount of blue under the makeup, but not enough for anyone to notice.

When she exited the bathroom James was sitting at the dinner table working on the computer again and she realized that he had probably been there when she’d stumbled past it before. _Three cheers for the attentive hostess_.

“Morning, whatcha doing?”

“Catching up on recent events from the last seventy years.” He looked like he hadn’t slept since she left him. He was still wearing the same t-shirt if now thankfully paired with jeans, but at least his wry humor was back.

“You had breakfast yet?”

“Just this,” he pointed at a cup of coffee next to the computer.

“Well that’s not gonna do it for me. How do you feel about omelet?”

His stomach answered for him.

“That’s what I like in a man, Mr. Barnes, a healthy appetite.” She winked at him and made her way to the kitchen, mentally kicking herself for flirting with the insomniac after the night he had just had.

A few minutes later Callie nearly dropped the bowl of eggs she was beating when the insomniac in question cleared his throat behind her. She’d had several cats that couldn’t walk as noiselessly as him. When she turned and looked at him, his head was down and he looked serious.

“I just wanted to thank you. For last night.”

“It was nothing.”

“No, it wasn’t.” He glanced up at her, head still low.

“Okay, then it was the least I could do.” Callie continued before he had a chance to interrupt her, “Are your nights usually this bad?” _Have I just slept through your night terrors?_

“Most nights so far, I’m just usually not that loud.”

“I’m really fucking sorry, James, I didn’t know.” The urge to hug him was so strong she put down the bowl, but she remained enough in control of herself to stay where she was, clutching the edge of the counter.

He shrugged. “It’s not your fault.”

“No, but you shouldn’t have to face this alone. Nobody should.” She picked up the bowl to distract herself and began beating the eggs again before adding milk, and a few other ingredients. “If- When it happens again could you please wake me up?”

He made a non-committal sound.

“I told you I’m fucking serious. If I’m not up for it I’ll let you know, until then please do as I say.”

She was rewarded with that wry smile again. The way the corners of his mouth quirked into a not-quite smile send a flurry of butterflies through her stomach every single time. The fact that he smiled so seldom didn’t exactly help.

“I still don’t get why you’re helping me, Callie,” he said dryly.

“Well, there are a lot of things I don’t get about you, so right back at ya.”

“Like what?” James folded his arms his chest and leaned against the door opening with one eyebrow raised.

“Like why you busted the door downstairs, but turned up on my couch like magic later.”

“As it turns out, I know how to pick locks.” He had perfected the look of mock innocence.

“Nifty, but not very polite.”

“So, back to my question.” He pushed off the opening and walked over to Callie, standing way too close for comfort.

“Why do you want to know so badly?” Again, standing this near to her, James’ lips were in her direct line of sight, unless she looked up into his bottomless blue eyes.

“I’d hoped to figure out why I’m drawn back to this place, time and time again.” He was too close and making it difficult to breathe. The man had zero concept of personal space.

She took a step backwards to escape the warmth of his body, but he matched her move, tilting his head slightly as he looked down at her. There was a movement on his right side but she couldn’t tear her eyes away from his, finally his hand came into her peripheral vision and he brushed a stray lock of hair away from her face to tuck it behind her ear. The butterflies had by now turned into dragons, burning away any semblance of self-control.

Licking her lips, Callie tried not to think about how his lips would feel on hers as her phone went off in the other room. She sidestepped, deftly avoiding his hand as he reached out for her like she hadn’t seen it, and went to answer the phone, completely out of air.

It was someone from work, asking if she could come in early. A German Shepherd had possibly eaten poison during the night and the owners was on their way to the clinic with it, but and the vet on call was already busy with a hit and run. Could she, please, come in early? Of course she could, no problem, she could be there in under half an hour if she hurried.

Refusing to look in the direction of the kitchen, she gathered her things and half-ran for the door, yelling over her shoulder as she left that there had been an emergency at work, if James could please feed the cats that would be great, thanks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You're not supposed to tilt your head back when you get a bloody nose, the blood will only run down your throat (yummy, I know). It is, however, true about how to use keys as self-defence. If you're really keen on stabbing people with keys, you should only use one. *The more you know*


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It wasn’t a gentle kiss, not that she had expected that from him, it was a kiss that spoke of need and desperation and it felt good to be needed. He pulled her closer still, pushing the air from her lungs for a brief second. 
> 
> ************
> 
> You know how the story goes: Fucked-up former assassin meets girl. Girl likes FUFA and invites him to stay. FUFA slowly gets better and teaches her self-defence. All the usual stuff, this time with added smut.

When she returned from almost ten hours later Callie stood outside the front door, forehead resting against it before she opened it. She felt like a goddamn teenager.

James was at her computer again, looking calmer than should be legal after the stunt he pulled that morning. Barely glancing at up as she threw the new key she’d had made, he caught it one handed. When he finally looked at it she got his attention.

“Really?” He let the tiny Captain America shield dangle from his closed fist.

“What? I thought it was perfect for you.” It was hard to keep the grin off her face, but she managed. It was easier to deal with her emotions this way, keeping the complicated ones at bay with teasing the source of them.

“I’m sure you did.” James got up and walked to the end of the table where his army duffel was sitting on a chair. “I’ve got something for you too.”

It shouldn’t have been a surprise, but she still frowned when he pulled out a black knife. When he unsheathed it the blade was almost six inches long, the handle however disappeared in his hand.

“Um—” Callie began, but her train of thoughts was derailed by a casual flick of his wrist that send the knife spinning in the air before he caught it blade first.

“I’ll show you how to wear it once you’re familiar with it.” He presented it to her, handle first. “A weapon is of no use to you if it’s stashed away in a purse.”

“This isn’t exactly what I had in mind, when I asked you to teach me to defend myself.” She put her hands up and took a step back.

“A gun could be used against you in hand to hand combat. It takes time to aim and pull the trigger when it isn’t second nature to you. A knife you could practice with right here without disturbing the neighbors.” James took her right hand and put the knife in it. “Your first option should always be to run away, if that’s not possible make them bleed and then run away. Your upper body is too weak to do substantial damage, but you’ve got long strong legs, you could outrun most attackers.”

“That’s the worst compliment anyone has ever given me.” It wasn’t even meant as a joke, she was too shocked to think about joking, she just stared at the knife in her hand. The size was perfect for her slimmer hands, it felt just right in a completely alien way.

“This isn’t funny, Callie. If I’m tracked down, you could very well get killed in the process.” He was frowning down at her and she just stood there, gaping at the knife.

“Why would- why would anybody come for you?”

“We’ve met, right? HYDRA’s not going to let a valuable asset slip through their fingers. Even if they’re in shambles right now.”

Callie wanted to sit down and think this through. At worst she had thought that maybe some governmental agency would arrest him if they found the unwilling assassin. That a criminal organization could be looking for him hadn’t even crossed her mind.

But she wasn’t going to have time to think things through, because James grabbed her hand and hauled her back to Marco’s old room.

“You’ll train as you are. If we’re attacked you won’t have time to change outfit.” He sounded almost eager.

For all that the thought of using a knife on someone repelled her Callie decided to go along with the training. Maybe if she did, then later they could cover what to do if she dropped the knife.

Watching James show different ways to attack or dodge an attack using a knife was fascinating, his movements so controlled and fluid it looked elegant. If you ignored the fact that their aim was to hurt and kill another person.

“Your best option is to grip it like a hammer with the blade facing out. You don’t have the upper body strength to do any real damage with an attack from above. An upwards stabbing motion is your best bet.” He demonstrated, jerking like his imaginary blade had hit someone.

“Wait until you’re close enough to touch, and then push the blade up from the top of the stomach. You can reach the heart that way easily and kill a man too quickly for him to react,” he continued. Guiding Callie’s hands to make her copy the movement with the knife against his stomach, making her feel sick.

“I don’t want to kill anyone, just defend myself,” she protested.

But James just ignored her protests, tapping a finger against her breastbone, where the wires of her bra met. “You have to be careful not to hit the breastbone. If you’re lucky the knife will just glide off it, but if not the knife gets stuck in it. Lose it and you’ll probably lose your life.”

She just gaped at him as he lifted the knife to his throat, point first.

 “The throat is another obvious killing spot. They won’t be able to scream and bleed out in seconds.”

“No. No killing, just defending.”

“If the attacker is dead, they can’t attack you.”

Callie made a frustrated sound.

He walked behind her, took her by the arm as if to restrain her, and said calmly, “Attack me.”

She made no sound this time, but spun and made the upward stabbing motion he’d shown her, stopping with the tip of the blade resting on his stomach. The triumphant smile on her face faltered as James casually clipped the back of her head with his metal hand. The impact made her eyes water.

“Don’t hold back. If you hold back now then your muscles will remember and hold back in a real fight.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Callie protested.

The smile on his face could only be described as condescending. “If you manage to hurt me, then I deserve the injury.”

When James made as if to grab her again she wasn’t holding back, but he still brushed her off with no effort at all.

She used every single move he had shown her and a few she’d seen in movies, but never even got close to touching him. Whenever James deemed Callie hadn’t put enough energy in the attack she earned a clip from the metal hand. Sometimes he corrected her stance, straitening her arms or kicking her legs to widen her stance. They didn’t speak; the only sounds breaking the silence were her grunts and the sharp sound of metal hitting bone.

Sweat ran down her back and finally she just threw herself at him in frustration. James sidestepped and caught her with her back against his front and her arms trapped against her chest in a grip so hard it made it difficult to breathe.

“Breathe easily, relax,” he said, forcing her to still her panting.

“Fuck you.”

“Come on, Callie. This is important.”

“This is stupid,” she countered, frustrated. “I’m never gonna come close to being a good fighter.”

“That’s not what I’m teaching you. I’m teaching you to react without thinking. And you’ve done well for your first time.” James looked pleased when he let her go and it made her frustration disappear quicker than she’d liked to admit.

James took the knife from her and placed it in the nearby windowsill. When he turned back, he took Callie’s chin in his hand and tilted her face up to his. “Maybe a reward is in order.”

The room was too small and his touch burned her skin, but she couldn’t move, only stare as his tongue flicked out to wet his lips.

“We _really_ shouldn’t be doing this.” Callie made a half-hearted attempt to step back, but he stopped her, encircling her waist with an arm while the fingers of the right hand rested lightly on her neck, the thumb stroking the line of her jaw.

“Why not?” His voice was low, pupils so large there was only a narrow ring left of the iris.

“This is like, all kinds of wrong,” she breathed.

“It doesn’t feel wrong.” James tilted his head slight, eyes traveling down to her lips and back up.

“Besides the fact that we were just fighting?” She was interrupted by his hand moving to her hair where he quickly dealt with the hair band and weaved his fingers through the now loose hair. “Sex and violence don’t mix.”

“There’s nothing like fighting to get the blood pumping. This is just exercise followed by more exercise.” He was enjoying her reaction to him far too much, a crooked smile played on his lips.

“Oh yeah?” Callie tried to keep her voice calm, but she could hear how badly it was shaking.

“Essential training.” He brushed his lips against hers in a kiss so light they barely touched, then pulled back slightly and looked down at her questioningly.

Having made so very many bad decisions lately that could have had an unfortunate outcome, this was the first one that promised such a desirable and immediate result. Besides, she wanted this as much as he did. She slid her fingers up his neck and into his loose hair, it was cool and smooth to the touch and she wanted to ball her hands into fists, to pull it. James mouth found hers and his lips were soft, in contrast to the stubbles on his chin scratching her, sending trails of fire running down to curl in the pit of her stomach. He sucked at her bottom lip, teeth scraping against sensitive flesh and she gasped involuntary into his mouth.

It wasn’t a gentle kiss, not that she had expected that from him, it was a kiss that spoke of need and desperation and it felt _good_ to be needed. He pulled her closer still, pushing the air from her lungs for a brief second. She could taste the salt of sweat, whether it was his or her own she wasn’t completely sure, and she didn’t really care. All her attention was on his lips on hers, his hands running down her back, and his hard body pushing into hers.

There was hunger in his movements, a hunger that both excited and scared her, as he pulled her dress shirt free of the skirt and their lips separated for a few moments. James’ mouth hung open, lips so very pink and the look of determination made her breath catch. His fingers struggled with the tiny buttons, so she helped him, opening the bottom ones as he worked from the top down. The moment their hands met, Callie moved to tug at the bottom of his shirt, leaving her own on her shoulders but hanging open, wanting to feel his skin next to hers.

With an impatient sound he yanked the shirt over his head and caught her mouth with his before the shirt hit the floor. She dug her fingers into his back, pulling them closer, relishing the skin on skin contact. His tongue opened her mouth again, demanding, making her breathe harder. She broke the kiss and moved down his neck to the soft spot above the collarbone near the pink and white scar next to the metal arm. There was a faint whirring sound from it as he gripped her waist with both hands.  The cool metal hand against her flushed skin made her goose bumps travel up her side, before his hands moved down her hips to push the skirt up. In one swift move he lifted her up off the ground and she wrapped her legs around his hips, feeling the hard length of his cock grind against her. She was forced to let go of his neck and had to steady herself with her hands on his shoulder, staring down at him panting.

He held her hips firmly in place with one arm, as he pushed her back, ignoring her protests. One breast was freed from the bra and he leaned down with a wicked grin playing on his lips. The cool air made her nipple harden almost painfully and she shivered in anticipation. He breathed on it first before giving it a long, slow lick, the stubbles on his chin grazing the sensitive underside of her breast. When he finally took it into his mouth, tongue flicking over it, she bucked against him and felt him laugh silently against her.

It was too much, Callie wanted him inside her. But unable to move much at all in his grip she had to settle for rolling her hips minutely against him, grinding against him until his cock hit her just right through all the clothes and she moaned loudly.

She didn’t have to say anything when his eyes met hers, words useless to communicate the ache. He quickly braced her against the windowsill, flicked open his jeans, and shoved her underwear to the side. But the second he was inside he slowed down and rested his forehead against hers, eyes closed.

When James finally opened his eyes again the raw need in them made her throat constrict. She could not remember having been looked at like that before, having been wanted so badly. He started to move, slowly, deliberately, pulling almost his entire length out before pushing back in again and again. She matched his pace, stroke by stroke, grinding against him as he buried himself in her. They worked perfectly together like this, mouths catching the other one’s moans, hands supporting and grasping as needed.

The friction alone was getting her closer to the edge, but when he shifted and pushed into her at exactly the right angle it turned her gasp into a loud moan. Opening her eyes she saw James looking at her intently, then flexing his hips the same way to drive the moan from her again. But she was having none of it and used all her strength to clench around him, drawing a half-choked sound from him. Yeah, that was more like it.

Callie was getting so close she couldn’t breathe properly, only gasping his name over and over again and he slid his hand down her stomach, thumb slipping between her folds. The second it pressed against her clit it became too much for her, body shuddering as she tightened around him. This time her tightened muscles pushed him over the edge and he dug his finger into her hip hard enough to leave a bruise, pushing almost involuntarily against her as he came.

When they could finally breathe again he looked up at her grinning, pupils still blown. He reached behind to catch and lift her legs up as he sat down on the floor with her on his lap. Tired beyond reason she put her arms around his neck and snuggled up with her face hidden in his long dark hair. With James’ even breath on her skin and his hands sliding up and down her back slowly everything was just perfect; she wished they just stay like that forever.

All too soon the moment was over, as he stirred under her. She almost stumbled trying to push her clothes back into place as she got up. Her legs felt like jelly. James, of course, got up effortlessly.

It wasn’t polite to stare but she still found herself following the point where the metal arm met flesh as he did up his jeans. It was odd. There wasn’t a single other scar visible, except the ones surrounding the arm. With a question on her lips, she ran a finger down the line of the scar.

“How come you’ve got scaring here, but nowhere else? Is there friction?”

“It’s not bad,” he dismissed her.

 “Not bad? So it’s always hurting?”

He just shrugged and pulled the t-shirt on. “I can handle a little pain.”

“I know you can, but you’re not supposed to just accept it without questions.”

“Just a week ago I was.” He looked at her with that perfectly blank face, completely ignoring the fact that his cheeks were still flushed and she would bet her life, that like her he could still feel the pleasant buzz from a recent orgasm.

The cosy, post-coital atmosphere was completely gone now, and it was her own damn fault. This wasn’t the way things were supposed to go. You met someone, you got to know them before asking them to move in, and unless it was a one-night-stand you usually went on one at least fucking date before you banged them. There were rules to these things, and they were there to keep everyone from getting confused.

Callie felt off balance the rest of the evening and wasn’t at all surprised when James declined her offer to sleep in her bedroom instead of the guestroom. Of course there was the risk of him hurting her in his sleep like he pointed out, but that didn’t make it any easier for her to accept.

 

But she hadn’t slept more than a few hours before James was at her door. He’d washed and changed to dry clothes already, but he looked just as broken as the night before. This time he curled up next to her in her bed, with her fingers combing through his hair and reading out loud from a new book she hadn’t had time to begin yet. It didn’t matter what she said, as long as she was talking, to drown out the thoughts in his head. The important thing wasn’t the distraction - it was that there _was_ a distraction.

After she had been reading out loud for a couple of hours he seemed to be relaxing against her. “Do you want to talk about your dreams?”

“Not really, no.” His tone wasn’t as clipped as it had been when she had approached the subject earlier, but it wasn’t exactly relaxed either.

 “It’s not your fault, you know. What happened to you. And what you did as the Winter Soldier.”

Seconds ticked by and turned into minutes without a response from James.

“I’m going to keep telling you that until you believe me. There’s stubbornness and there’s Guerra stubbornness, you can’t win this battle.”

This time she managed to push him without provoking him and was rewarded by a kiss on the palm of her hand as he sat up on the bed.

“I’m not going to get anymore sleep tonight,” he said, standing up. “I’ll go work out and let you catch some rest. You look like you need it.”

“Maybe you could work on getting me some of that super soldier serum.” She smiled at him. “Then I’ll be able to keep up with you.”

He paused, looking back at her. “No, I like you the way you are.”

As compliments go, that one was a winner.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I thought she’d never leave.” His shit eating grin was back.  
> “How did you get in? When did you get in?”  
> “A while ago. This place is too easy to break into.”  
> “So the part about Laura not seeing you didn’t register?” She was taking her frustration about having to lie to her best friend out on him. It wasn’t fair, but he was the one who had hung a pig's carcass in the garage.
> 
> ************
> 
> You know how the story goes: Fucked-up former assassin meets girl. Girl likes FUFA and invites him to stay. FUFA slowly gets better and teaches her self-defence using a pig’s carcass... All the usual stuff, this time with added smut PLUS kink hints. Yay.

Callie had felt jittery the entire day; the thought of having to lie to Laura made her sick to her stomach. Sure, whatever was between her and James was about as complicated as it was good, but she wanted to be able to tell her best friend about it.

On her drive back from work she had gone over a thousand ways to spin the lie she’d told Laura and Sara the last time she’d met with them. She’d come up short. There was no way to do it and still refuse to let Laura meet the new man in her life. The two of them had always shared virtually everything. When Callie’s father had almost disallowed her for choosing to become a veterinary physician instead of a regular physician like he’d wanted her to be, it had been Laura she’d run to. And when Laura her heart crushed by her first love it had been Callie’s shoulder she’d cried on. Laura knew things about her she’d never told anybody, but this gray eyed man with the complicated past she couldn’t share with her friend. At least not until he had an identity that didn’t involved dying over half a century ago and working as an assassin since then.

Her train of thoughts was interrupted by a ping from her phone. It was Laura, asking if it was okay if she came by earlier, she didn’t want to eat dinner alone. Feeling bad enough about lying as it was, Callie couldn’t come up with an excuse and agreed to the proposal.

It was only because of the kittens’ intense interest in things outside the storage room, that she even checked the other rooms, rushed as she was. She looked over the main room first before going to the office, neither place looked any different. The bathroom was a whole other matter. In the middle of it, hanging from a large hook secured in the ceiling, was an entire pig’s carcass. Well, not an entire carcass, it had been gutted and filled with ice.

Callie closed the door calmly on it and went upstairs.

James met her in the hallway, with a big smile on his face. “I need to talk with you about something.”

“I’ve already seen the pig, and I’m not impressed.” She didn’t want to discuss it now, as she wasn’t sure she could keep herself from shouting. “But that’s not the issue right now. You need to leave, Laura could be coming any minute now. She’s early.”

He frowned at her, the grin fading, but went to pick up his duffel and pulled the hoodie over his head right away. There was only time for a quick kiss and he grasped her face afterwards grinning down at her before placing a second kiss on her forehead. Would she ever be able to read him?

Laura was there not ten minutes later, bouncy, and talking even more than usual. She had seen this show about home renovation and she had a bunch of ideas for changing the apartment to a super swanky place. She was barely inside the door before she began detailing her plans for how Callie should knock down several walls. Open concept was practically a requirement for homes these days. That the kitchen should be opened out into the living room, and the two old bedrooms and guestroom accessible from the hallway should be converted to two rooms, max. No kid would want bedrooms that small, she pointed out, measuring out the width of them with the length of her stride. Maybe she could even convert the bathroom to a giant walk-in closet, open into the master bedroom?

It finally became too much for Callie and she dragged her friend into the living room and sat her down in the couch. If James had still been there, there had been no way to avoid the story of the new man in her life.

“What’s gotten into you?” Callie asked, masking her worry with a smile. “You’re acting like a kid riding a sugar rush.”

“What do you mean? I’m just in a good mood. Spring is finally here.” Laura said protesting, but at least she calmed down a bit.

“Did someone get laid this weekend?” It was a shot in the dark, but it did the job.

“Of course I did,” Laura said with a dirt grin. “I get laid _every_ weekend, ‘cos I’ve got game. Unlike some people…”

“You haven’t got game, you’ve got a bunch of fuck buddies. That’s not the same,” Callie said dryly.

“Jealous much?”

“A bit, but that’s beside the point.”

“So how’s _your_ love life? Did you contact that dreamy veteran you went on about at the restaurant?” Laura waggled her eyebrows at her.

“I didn’t go on about him. And I’m pretty sure I told you he didn’t give me his contact info and wasn’t going to use the clinic to pick up dates.” Yeah, more lies, that was exactly what she needed.

“Riiight, because you’ve never in your life done anything dodgy to get with someone.”

“College doesn’t count! Besides he wasn’t my teacher at that point.”

The two of them went back and forth as they cooked dinner. It felt good and normal, and, as long as they stayed off the subject of James, not as awkward as she had expected. She could only hope that her friend didn’t notice her glancing at the clock every now and then like a love sick puppy. When they were done eating Laura insisted that they visited the kittens in the garage. She had seen them when they still had closed eyes and she was excited to see them walk about.

They played with the kittens for a good while before Laura’s phone rang and she had to step outside answering it. Callie wanted to tease her with the need for secrecy but dropped it as she felt bad enough about her own secrets as it was.

The moment she closed the front door behind Laura a few hours later, the one to the guestroom opened to reveal James.

“I thought she’d never leave.” There was that shit eating grin again.

“How did you get in? _When_ did you get in?”

“A while ago. This place is too easy to break into.”

“So the part about Laura not seeing you didn’t register?” She was taking her frustration about having to lie to her best friend out on him. It wasn’t fair, but he was the one who had hung a pig in the garage.

“She didn’t see me.” He pulled her close and tried to kiss her.

“Yeah, you’re not distracting me from the pig downstairs. What were you thinking?”

“It’s for training.” He glanced at her wrist watch. “Come on, we’ll start now.”

 

Under the fluorescent lights the pig looked even more revolting.

“The skin is tougher than you think when you cut it with a knife instead of a scalpel.” He was all business again, even the glint in his eyes was gone.

“You’re gonna make me stab the poor pig, aren’t you?”

“It’s dead. And yes, you need to get the feel of how much force is needed.” He removed the ice and put it in the sink.

“This still feels wrong.” She poked the pig hesitantly. The skin was tougher than it looked. The knife made it dimpled where the tip touched it, but it didn’t break. She turned the tip of the knife to her own hand and pushed it against her index finger. It hurt, but it didn’t break the skin.

“See?”

Callie flicked a glance at him and then stabbed the knife at the pig without really looking. It hit something hard and skimmed over several bumps. The ribs, exactly what she was supposed to avoid. It had opened a shallow, bloodless cut, but that was it. Not wanting to look at James, she ran her fingers down the side of the pig to figure out where the ribs stopped and marked the point with a superficial line from the knife. Satisfied that she wouldn’t encounter bone again there she angled the blade upwards and pushed it up and in. It was harder than she’d thought, but she didn’t stop until her hand made contact with the cold hide.

“Good. Again.”

Once she knew how much force to apply it became easier and the blade went in faster.

 “Try the muscles along the spine. They’re thicker, harder to go through.”

He was right; the blade only went in a couple of inches. To make up for it she widened her stance, her left hand pushing up under the right, and the blade went in much easier. James corrected her posture, pushing her legs closer together.

“Don’t make it so obvious that you’re going to attack. Surprise is the key element for you.”

The pig was riddled with stab holes before he was satisfied. In some places it hung in tatters from when he had swung it at her and she’d had to slash to keep it from hitting her. Callie wasn’t sure she could ever look at another pig without feeling bad.

She was cleaning the slick residue of half melted fat off the knife, when she noticed the four neat indents in the edge of the metal sink. Staring at it, she put the fingers of her left hand into each depression and found the fifth one with her thumb on the underside without looking. It was under a week ago she had found him here, bleeding and barely able to function as a human being. I felt like much longer.

Hearing a soft sound behind her Callie startled, wiping the knife on her trousers and slipping it in its sheath into a pocked as she turned. James was standing right be her, eyes locked on her, looking like he wanted to say something. She wasn’t up to more training and took his metal hand to distract him. Fingers light on the cool metal she turned it over, tracing the lines between the interlocking plates.

“How much are you able to feel with this?”

“Mostly it’s pressure, or the lack of. It’s hard to explain.” He looked questioningly at her.

“So if I did this, you wouldn’t be able to feel it?” She put his index finger into her mouth. Tongue cradling it as her lips closed around it. The metal was smooth in her mouth, her tongue slid over the lines between plates. Closing her eyes, she sucked gently and let it slide further into her mouth, tongue pressing against the underside.

When she finally opened her eyes and let the finger slide from her mouth, she saw his eyes, dark and hooded, go from it up to her eyes. He swallowed.

“No? Nothing?” She didn’t even try to look innocent.

He caught her head with both hands and pushed into her so hard she was forced to take a step back to keep her balance, the back of her thighs bumping into the sink. The kiss took her breath away. His lips were warm and soft, but the kiss demanding, his tongue opening her mouth to let him in. She slipped her arms around his waist and let her fingers travel up his back, enjoying the feel of the hard muscles underneath the thick hoodie. His hands left her face and began tugging at the hem of her shirt impatiently, but she broke the kiss and stopped him.

“I’m not having sex with you in the same room as that thing” she said out of air, pointing at the pig.

His lips were red and slightly swollen from the rough kiss as he stared at her. “You’re enjoying this far too much.”

“It’s the one thing I have on you, I think I’m allowed.”

He looked like he was about to argue, but she stopped him with a light kiss.

“You, me, bedroom. Now,” she ordered with a grin.

No further words were needed as he quickly followed her out the door and up the stairs. Usually nimble-fingered the key almost slipped from her as she struggled to unlock the door, James mouth hot on her neck. His impatience made heat coil in her abdomen.

They almost didn’t make it into the bedroom. Once the front door closed behind them he had her trapped against it, pushing his face against the side of her neck, sucking, nibbling, kissing. The scrape of stubbles against the sensitive skin made gooseflesh spread almost painfully. She protested weakly, pushing against him with both hands. It made no difference of course, when he didn’t want to be moved she had no chance of doing so. She should probably feel bad about being so turned on by his strength, but that fight was just as useless.

Her panties felt slick against her skin, they had not even made it past kissing and she was so ready for him. As if he’d read her mind, his right hand moved up her side to her breast, thumbing the nipple through the cloth, making her moan. She slid her hands down to his groin, his cock straining against the trousers, and rubbed him slowly, firmly. James shuddered against her, mouth going still against her neck as he inhaled sharply. Then he took her hand resolutely and pulled her to the bedroom at the other end of the apartment, walking fast enough to make her stumble after him.

The hoodie and the t-shirt underneath were over his head and discarded in one go, the small bun his hair had been pulled into more or less ruined at the same time. With one hand on his chest she pushed him onto the bed and he sat looking up at her as she moved closer, straddling him. The urge to pull his hair was back, and she weaved her hands into it, removing the hair band, and pulled gently but firmly his head back and exposed his throat to her. He looked almost fragile like this, mouth slightly open and eyes hooded, and it turned her on as much as his strength did.

“Oh, the things I would like to do to you.” She held his gaze for several long seconds before moving down to his neck, nibbling her way to his collarbone. He stayed perfectly still, with his hands resting lightly on her hips.

When she straightened again and looked down on his upturned face there was a look in his eyes she couldn’t quite place.

“Show me.” His voice raw and full of need.

The offer was too good to pass up and she let go of his hair to run her fingers lightly down his chest, enjoying the feeling of smooth skin under them. Again he let her to push him back until he rested on his elbows. His pants were quickly dealt with, his cock twitching once it was free, and James responded quickly as she motioned for him to move back on the bed. Under his intent gaze her own clothes were quickly off before she sat on his thighs, knees on either side of his hips.

She leaned forward to place a light kiss on the center of his chest, letting her dark hair fall down on his side, sliding down it as she kissed a trail down his abdomen. He groaned impatiently as she stopped just below his navel to move up again, starting at his collarbone. This time Callie moved a hand down his chest with the kisses, fingers circled his nipple before she let each skim it. He jerked so hard in reaction the headboard thumped against the wall.

A light hand on his thighs made him part them and she moved between them, leaning forward and blowing hot air on his cock. A droplet of pre-come shone on the tip. His fingers dug into the mattress on either side of him as she flattened her tongue against his base, moving up slowly. The tiny desperate sounds he made went directly down between her legs, making her press them together in anticipation. Blood pounded against her fingers as she circled the base, grasped it firmly and tilted his cock up so she could slip the head into her mouth. The tip of her tongue teased the sensitive underside, pressed against the taut sting meant to hold the foreskin in place, making James groan loudly again.

She lowered her head on him slowly, taking him in as fully as she could, before moving up again, her hand around the base moving up along in perfect unison. It was all too soon before she felt a hand flutter against her shoulder, trying to stop her yet not.

A few seconds of respite was all he got before she began again at a slower pace. He was so fucking sensitive she could have made him come with barely any effort. But she wasn’t ready for him to come just yet and as his breathing quickened again she slowed her pace until she came to a complete standstill. Callie very deliberately let him see her put her hand between her legs, and then closed the now slick hand around the head of his cock and rotated the hand gently. She was rewarded by a tearing sound to her right. When she looked she saw that his metal fingers had gone right though the sheet and what looked like most of the mattress topper.

She moved from between his thighs to straddling him, with a hand holding his cock flat against his stomach while grinding against it. She had only intended to prolong James’ suffering by rubbing against him and not taking him inside yet, but the even slight pressure had opened her lips to him and the ridge on the underside of his cock hit her clit. Unable and unwilling to stop herself, she ground against him several times, hard, eyes closing. When she opened then again he was staring at her open mouthed and chest heaving.

The look of uninhibited desire nearly did her in and she arched her back, pushing her breasts out, inviting him to play with them. He didn’t need more hints. She shifted her grip on his cock, holding it in place so she could push against its entire length to press against her clit. She was using him like her personal fuck toy and would probably have felt bad about it if not the moans that fell from his open mouth each time she rolled her hips.

For a moment the temptation of coming using him like this was almost too much, but better judgment won and she slowed her movements, inhaling deeply a couple of times to collect herself. Not that it was an easy task with his hands roaming her body, the left one cool and the right burning her skin. Lifting off him, she guided the head of his cock and lowered herself onto it, watching James’ face closely as his eyes closed against the sensation.

Callie waited until he met her eyes before she began to move, her hips slowly flexing. It was a small movement, but the friction it created was enough to make his muscle in chest and arms twitch as he fought the urge to shift and take control. It only made her ground harder against him.

When she had established a slow, even rhythm she leaned forward and he met her lips eagerly, catching her bottom lip between his teeth. The kiss was breathless, both in short supply of air. She had to support herself on arms on either side of him, unable to keep her balance any more, grinding against him. Her hips moved almost on their own tilting backwards and forwards in a steady pace, and she could focus on other things. Like how James bit his lip if she straightened and reached behind to cup his balls in one hand. Of course he wasn’t going to let her run the entire show, and it was her time to bite her lip when his thumb found her clit to match her rhythm with a slight pressure that threatened to drive her crazy.

 His breath was coming in labored, ragged huffs as she picked up the pace. Her orgasm wasn’t far off when he came gasping into her mouth, hips desperately pushing up against her, and it pushed her over the edge too.

Completely spend she let herself slide down beside him nestled in the crook of his left arm, the metal wonderfully cool against her burning skin. James turned his head to bury his face in her hair, pulling her closer still with his arm around her. She couldn’t move, couldn’t speak, only lie there as the buzzing slowly faded.

She had almost nodded off when he spoke.

 “I remembered something from when I was the Winter Soldier,” he said. “There are some locations I want to check out.”

There was something about the way his voice sounded. Had he rehearsed this before bringing it up?

“Check out,” she repeated, not even as a question.  For some reason she was sure he meant people he wanted to kill. It disturbed her he sounded so relaxed about it.

“They should have info on my past.”

She fought the urge to repeat his words again. Had there been a slight pause before them or was she imagining things? “Oh? When will you leave?” She finally managed.

“Tomorrow. I need to pick up a few things first. Steve said he could get the stuff I wouldn’t be able to get on my own. And he wanted to come with as backup.”

“That’s… nice of him.”

“Callie,” his voice soft now, tender fingers grasped her chin, tilting her face up to his. “I’m coming back.”

“Of course.” She swallowed. “Of course, it’s just—” _I don’t want to lose you_. She looked away again.

“You asked me to trust you, now I need you to trust my ability to make decisions for myself.”

She couldn’t argue with that. If anyone could assess a situation like what he had planned it would be him. “I know, but that doesn’t stop me from worrying about you.”

“I’m not supposed to be enjoying that, am I?”

She didn’t answer. The smile in his voice made one spread on her face as she pressed it into his chest. There were a lot of things neither of them should be enjoying, but still did nonetheless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There more than a few lines of plot in the next chapter. Shocking, I know.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Being woken up in the middle of the night had become a regular occurrence, but this time the nightmare had manifested outside James head. Something heavy slammed into a wall in the other end of the apartment and there was a muffled sound of pain.
> 
> ************
> 
> You know how the story goes: Fucked-up former assassin meets girl. Girl likes FUFA and invites him to stay. The two connect as FUFA slowly gets better and decides to seek out HYDRA. All the usual stuff, but you know, with lots of violence.

The next morning was a flurry of activities, James insisted that she had to train with the knife again and he pushed her harder than he had before. Her shirt was completely drenched by the time he let her hit the shower. The hot water felt so good on her tired muscles, she just wanted to stay there, instead of going to work.

They didn’t discuss his plans that morning. Beyond that he was interested in HYDRA’s files on him, he hadn’t told her about the specifics the night before and she hadn’t asked. Callie didn’t kid herself about the fact that people still would die, though. There was no way he was going to get the information he wanted without _someone_ ending up dead. She just hoped that they deserved it.

Before she left James handed her a new sheath for the knife and showed her how to wear. After trying several options she settled on it affixed to the belt in the small of the back, as it felt the least intrusive while it allowed her for easy access. It meant that she had to wear her shirt loose to cover it and most of her dresses were out of the question unless she wore them with a belt and a cardigan over them, but it was no use arguing with James, he wasn’t backing down.

“I need you to be safe.”

The look on his face made her throat constrict and she had to take a deep breath before answering. “I know. Likewise.”

He looked down at her, face unreadable, before pulling her closer and resting his forehead against hers. His breath was warm and even on her face, but his hands were curled into hard balls against the small of her back. What was he so afraid of?

 

* * *

It was hard to leave him in the morning and it got even harder to stand the wait as the day progressed. Callie ended up taking her frustrations out on the equipment in the gym she frequented, but the worry was still in her tight in her gut as she returned home to an empty flat. She would see him the next day and she should have more faith in him, but she had never been good at handling situation that put people close to her in danger. The fact that she had inherited that trait from her mother didn’t make it any easier to handle.

Every time her father had gone away on business trips her mother had been a nervous wreck. Busying herself with running the garage during the day, but ending up on the couch with what Callie later realized what had probably been a very Irish coffee by the evening. The thought of her worried mother stopped Callie dead in her tracks in the middle of doing the dishes. She even forgot to put the plate she had been washing up back into the sink before she walked into the living room.

Like she had said to James in the car, then the looks of the people in his dream could easily have been taken from the large family portrait behind the dinner table. But her mother looked happy and relaxed in it, surrounded by her family, how did he know about her nervous tic? And her hair was straight, like it had been all of Callie’s life. In fact there was only a single picture in the entire apartment where you could see a hint of curls and that was one where the hair had been styled and put up for her wedding.

The thought worried her. If her father had worked on James’ bionic arm, what else had her parents kept hidden from her? And had that been why James had come here in the first place?

The questions churning in her head kept Callie on the treadmill long enough for her legs to burn and feel as weak as her frayed nerves, but no matter how tired her body felt she was unable to sleep for most of the night. Only dozing off when the sun began to rise.

 

The Captain America key ring was already on the dresser when Callie got back from work and she turned when she spotted movement at the other end of the hallway. James stood there, looking at her with that eerie blank expression.

Despite the fact that spring had finally kicked winter’s hold on the world outside, he was covered up in a thick hoodie and jeans like just about always and it made it hard to see if he was hurt, but the sight of him still made her relax, even if it was just a little.

“Are you—” she began, but stopped herself.

“I’m fine. Told you I would be.” His voice was stern despite the softness in his eyes.

“And I told you I would worry, so this can’t come as a surprise.” She was trying to make him smile and it worked if only briefly. “Did you find what you were looking for?”

“Just going over it.”

She followed him into the living room where the dinner table was covered in print outs and schematics. Picking up one that looked like a mix between a maze and a blue print, but with squiggly lines and shapes, she stared at it trying to make sense of it.

“So you know how to read this?”

“No, Stark does.”

 “Stark, as in Tony Stark?”

“If this needs fixing, he’s probably a better bet than HYDRA,” James said, gesturing with his left arm.

An even better idea would be for Stark to develop a new arm that didn’t cause him pain, but this was good too. But this clearly wasn’t what was making him tense.

“What aren’t you saying, James?”

He looked at her with a wry smile before taking a thick, official looking folder with writing on it from a chair under the table.

“I was looking for shutdown codes they might have implanted it me, but I couldn’t find anything on it.” He looked at the folder in his hands for a few seconds more before handing it to her.  “I found this, though.”

The combination of numbers and letters at the top were obviously for filing purposes, but underneath it someone had crossed out the printed ‘Mendes, Alexandre’ and written in blocky letters ‘Guerra, Miguel’. Her father’s name.

The air left her like she had been punched in the stomach. “So it’s true,” was all she managed to get out.

“You knew?”

“I suspected as much.”

His face was so carefully blank it could only be a deliberate reaction.

“Because of your dream of him working on your arm. I mean, why else would you remember that?” Callie stared down at the folder in her hands. “Do I even wanna read this?” She looked up, mostly wanting him to say she didn’t have to read it.

He looked at her for a while before answering. It was probably only seconds but it felt like minutes.

“It’s fine. He only worked on the mechanics of it. The last report is from the late seventies, after that it’s only references to other reports. I think he only consulted on the newest version. You should read it. He’s your family.”

“I know, it’s just,” she stopped and exhaled deeply. “Christ, I’d be pissed if he’d been a janitor for them, but this—He experimented on you, on a human being. It’s just so like him, not giving a fuck as long as he got to work on his newest brilliant idea.”

He pulled her closer as an answer, enveloping her completely, with his arms around her and his face n her hair. His body was hard against her, the metal arm harder still, and it grounded her in a way words couldn’t.

Maybe she should feel bad for needing consoling after finding out a relative had done bad things, when he had been the one on the receiving end of the bad things, but like when he had handled her bloody nose, she got the distinct impression that he _liked_ taking care of others. It was needing help that made him uncomfortable.

 

* * *

Being woken up in the middle of the night had become a regular occurrence, but this time the nightmare had manifested outside James head. Something heavy slammed into a wall in the other end of the apartment and there was a muffled sound of pain.

Unsheathing her knife, Callie slipped out the bedroom door, closing it behind her to keep the cats inside. There was a little light in the living room from the street outside, but the corridor at the other end was dark until the door to the guestroom burst open. A dark shape slammed through the wreckage with James close behind, his hands wrapped around its neck. James did _something_ with his hands and the shape stopped struggling and dropped to the ground. Then the front door was kicked in. Several dark shapes streaming in, the streetlights shining through the open front door and outlining them. She stepped back involuntarily, knowing she should leave yet unable to stop looking.

But James never stopped moving, grapping one man before he had a chance to raise what looked like a bulky cattle prod, the tip sparking. The man was on the ground before she could make out what was happening and James leapt forward, the sparking tip of the prod lighting up another man’s face before it was buried deep in his throat. Only seconds had past and already she had witnessed several people simply eradicated by him.

It was terrifying to watch, neither James nor the attackers made a sound as they fought. All she could hear was small groans and occasionally the sound of a body hitting something solid. There were already several forms lying crumpled on the floor and as she watched James ducked a wild swing, came up behind the man’s arm, and broke his neck in one swift move. The speed and efficiently with which he killed was frightening.

Before anyone noticed her, Callie slipped back into the bedroom; she would be a bigger distraction to James than help right now. With numb fingers, she pulled out the bug-out-bag she had stashed in her closet and caught each cat to put them into their separate carrier. She pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, hoping that the colors matched at least somewhat as it was hard to make out in the darkness. Money hidden in a box in the closet was added to the bag and some extra clothes, before she turned back to the door, knife still ready in her hand.

The only sound from the outside was a low thumbing sound and she risked a second glance out of the door. No one was left standing and the only movement she could make out was the glint of metal as James slammed his fist into something he was sitting on. Callie moved slowly through the living room careful where she put her feet, feeling as if she was watching the entire thing from outside her body. Just inside the living room she could make out a man lying on his back, there was something black under him and as she got closer she could make out five neat holes on his neck. Four on one side and one on the other, just like the sink below, except these had been bleeding badly.

Careful not to step in any of the blood she called out softly to James, but he didn’t react, only kept hitting what she now recognized as something that had once been a human being. The sound of his metal fist hitting flesh again, and again, and again. Callie threw up then. She almost managed to stop after the first heave, but then she saw her stomach content mixing with blood. She continued until all that came up was bitter globs of stomach acid.

When she finally got herself under control wiped the sweat and tears and vomit off her face, he was still hitting the motionless form beneath him. She made her way over the corpses, only stopping to clamp a hand over her mouth and stop herself from screaming when she felt the warm blood seep up between her bare toes. It was probably only seconds, but it felt like hours past until she reached him. He was so lost to the world that he didn’t react no matter how many times she half-whispered his name and finally she reached out hesitantly, brushing his shoulder.

The reaction was instant. He whirled around, a snarl on his face and the metal fist rose to hit her, dripping blood. She stumbled back, almost tripping over a corps. The second his eyes touched her face he stopped, hands dropping to his sides and hair falling forward to hide his face.

“Callie, I’m sorry. I didn’t—“ He cut himself off and swallowed hard.

She opened her mouth only to close it again, unable to form words, let alone sentences.

His face blanked and he straightened. “You need to leave. Take what you need and don’t look back. I’ll clean up here.”

“I’m coming with you.” Her words were distorted until she got control over her sobbing.

“No, you’re not. You find someplace safe and go there.” His voice was as void of feeling as his face.

“I’m not leaving you.”

The grief on his face was almost enough to start her crying again, but she swallowed wildly and raised her chin defiantly at him. He didn’t answer at first, only stepped closer, lining his body up against hers, front to front, resting his forehead against hers, and wrapping his right arm around her, but keeping his bloody arm and hands away. She slipped her arms around his waist. Though she was unable to see it in the darkness there were probably blood on his front too, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care.

“Okay,” he breathed in deeply, inhaling her scent. “You shouldn’t give up your chance of a normal life. But okay.”

“I gave it up the second I decided to help you. I just didn’t know it yet.”

His lips tasted of salty sweat and something bitter when she tiptoed to kiss him.

 

It was easier than expected to decide what was important of her possessions and the only thing she regretted having to leave behind was the smart phone and all the things she had on it. But she smashed it without hesitation, it could be used to track them if she took it with her and she didn’t want information on her or her friends to fall into the wrong hands. James was quicker still; he only needed a change of clothes as he already had all he owned in the army surplus duffel, including the papers on his arm.  Within minutes they were out, walking briskly down the street.

The first drunken person they met got his phone stolen by James pretending to bump into him. A few streets away Callie broke into and hotwired a car he picked out as suitable. When you grew up in a garage you picked up tricks of the trade, including the dirty ones. As a sister to a federal agent she felt bad about the crimes, but as a daughter of someone she’d just discovered worked for HYDRA she decided not to give a fuck.

It took her a few minutes before she remembered Steven Rogers’ full phone number, but he picked up after the second ring despite the time of night.

“I’m really sorry to be calling this early,” she began before she was cut off.

“Who is this?”

“I’m sorry. This is Callie, Callie Guerra. James’…” She trailed off, not knowing what to say. Girlfriend? Lover? Trainee? Phone lady?

“Callie.” He sounded worried, and who wouldn’t be getting a call like this in the middle of the night. “Is Bucky okay?”

“He’s okay, we’re not in any immediate danger. I think. I don’t know.” She stopped to try to calm herself. “I don’t really know how to start, but some people broke into my place. HYDRA people. James took care of them, but we need a place to stay. To hide. They know where I live…”

She didn’t realize how much she was shaking until she felt James’ hand on her shoulder, gripping it firmly then sliding up to her neck and kneading it. His other hand was still on the steering wheel and his eyes on the road, but it calmed her.

“It’s okay, it’s alright. Breathe.” Rogers said over the phone at the same time. “I’ll take care of that. Just meet me in half an hour— Hang on I have to get the address.”

Callie could hear paper being shifted and when he came back he gave her an address and directions to get there.

“Thank you so much. I’m really sorry to have woken you up like this.” She could feel the tears threatening to spill again.

“Don’t worry about it. And I’m not much of a sleeper.” There was dry humor in his voice and she smiled despite the tears.

After they hung up she turned in her seat to look at James, leaning against his warm hand. “I’m sorry I’m such a mess.”

“Your reaction is the sane one.”

“I don’t feel very sane right now.” Her breathing was still shaky, but she had gotten over the urge to cry.

“You still sure you wanna do this? It’s not too late to get out.”

“Yeah, I’m sure. I’m just not very good at controlling my emotions.”

“Oh, I _knew_ that. You’re practically swooning when you look at me.” He was deliberately trying to make her smile and it worked.

 

* * *

They got to the abandoned warehouse early and parked just inside the main entrance. Initially it looked like they were the first there, then a shadow detached itself from a darker shadow and walked calmly over to them. It was a short woman with dark hair just past the shoulders, her hands buried in a leather jacket. She moved with a casual grace that somehow made Callie believe that she was at least as deadly as James. When he casually pushed her behind his back her suspicion was confirmed.

“Steve will be here in a minute. He had a longer drive.” There was a crooked smile on her lips as she watched them. “Easy, Barnes, I’m one of the good guys.”

“I seem to remember you shooting at me.” His voice was flat and he widened this stance as she got nearer.

“To be fair, you tried to kill me first.” She finally stopped a couple of yards from them, shifted her weight to the right leg and leaned sideways to catch Callie’s eyes. “Hi there.”

Callie shot her an apologetic smile and stepped partly out from behind James’ back to his obvious discomfort. “Hi, I’m Callie. Are you a friend of Steve?”

“I’m Natasha. Steve thought you might use my expertise.”

Something clicked inside Callie and her face split into a wide grin. “Oh wow, you’re the Black Widow.”

Natasha took her hands out of the pockets and raised them. “You’ve got me.”

Callie heard James exhale sharply at the gesture and when she looked at him his posture seemed less stand-offish.

“Is that your car?” Natasha nodded at the car they had just vacated.

“No, we… um… borrowed that one. If they know where I live they probably also know my car.”

“Good, we’ll switch cars. Can’t have you driving around in a car that will be reported stolen,” Natasha said, nodding.

“But won’t you need your car?” Callie asked.

“I didn’t say it was _my_ car.” There was a tiny smile on the redhead’s lips.

Before Callie got a chance to ask more questions both James and Natasha turned their heads to the entrance of the warehouse. It took several seconds before Callie heard the faint sound of a motor the other two had reacted to. A few moments later a beam of light pierced the dark interior of the warehouse, showing that the Black Widow did in fact still have her signature red hair, that it was just the darkness that had made it look brown.

The engine sounded too aggressive to be a car and as Rogers pulled in her suspicion was confirmed. Captain America rode a motor bike in his spare time, because of course he did. He hopped off the bike and swiftly crossed over to them, pulling James into a hug. James responded to the sudden contact by first going stiff and then relaxing more into the hug, using his right arm to pat Rogers on the back, but keeping the metal one at his side.

“Could you now consider the offer to move into Stark’s tower? I told you it wasn’t safe.” Rogers said the moment the hug was over.

“That’s not gonna work for me.” James’ back was turned to Callie, but she could hear the tension in his voice.

Rogers looked at her pleadingly and she raised her eyebrows. “I’m going where he’s going,” Callie said, pointing to James. “Not the other way around.”

“Come on, we’ll let the boys talk,” Natasha said to Callie waving her over to the other woman’s car, hidden in the shadows. “I’ll show you how to get to a safe house. It’s out in the woods, should be ideal for someone with Barnes’ social skills.”

Callie tried to hide her grin as she followed, relieved that all this seemed like such a non-issue. The cabin was a few hundred miles to the south west in a forest area and they would obviously need supplies if they were to stay there.

When they were done discussing the cabin Natasha stared at her with a slight wrinkle in her brow for longer than Callie found comfortable.

“This isn’t going to be a fun ride,” Natasha finally said. “The more he remembers the harder it will get for him.”

Callie swallowed. “You know someone who’s been through this before?”

“Something like it. And I’ve been through it myself.” The other woman’s face was perfectly blank. Just like James’ when talking about things that made him uncomfortable.

“Any advice you could give me would be great.”

“Be there for him.” She stared of into the distance. “Listen, but mostly be there.” Natasha shook her head as if to clear it. “But you would probably be better off asking him. Everyone reacts differently.”

They walked back to the other two in silence, Natasha’s words still ringing in her head.

“Steve’ll make sure the bodies are removed from your place, and take care of the cats. When things settle down you’ll have them back,” James said when she reached him.

“Thank you.” Callie tiptoed to kiss him lightly. “And the pig?” she asked, her voice dry.

“There’s a pig?” Natasha sounded amused.

“Oh, it’s dead. Hanging in the bathroom of the garage. _Someone_ thought it would be a good idea for me to practice stabbing people by going at it.” Callie answered in a level tone of voice while she stared at James. He kept his face blank, but the corners of his mouth quirked minutely.

 “Fresh, right? Not one that’s been drying out in cold storage for a while?” Natasha asked, this time addressing James. When he nodded, she continued. “Good thinking, Barnes. You can’t get much closer to imitating a fully dressed person without stabbing an actual fully dressed person.”

The grin grew wider on James’ face as he answered, “Exactly.”

Callie stared from one to the other. “You guys are insane.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Breathe in.” With him right behind her, his breath was hot and distracting on her skin. “Now release it slowly as you squeeze the trigger.”  
> She had been prepared for the kick, but it still made the gun snap up and her stumble back into his immovable front.  
> “The next time you’ll be ready for the recoil and it won’t hit you as hard.” He didn’t say that maybe then she would hit the page, but he didn’t have to.
> 
> ************
> 
> You know how the story goes: Fucked-up former assassin meets girl. Girl likes FUFA and invites him to live with her. Doesn't invite HYDRA and they're pissed. All the usual stuff, cabin in the woods edition.

The safe house was a small log cabin. Not that Callie had expected a big luxury vacations spot, but the 400-500 sq feet was a bit small to house two people for who knew for how long. There was a covered porch at the front, but the inside was more or less one big room. Immediate to the right when you entered there was a fireplace, and further in a table and two chairs opposite a queen size bed. Thankfully, at the back was the bathroom next to the small but functional kitchenette. Callie had worried a bit about the bathroom when she had seen the cabin, not sure if she could face having to go outside to pee during the night.

James seemed less than impressed, testing the strength of the front door and the back door by the kitchenette. The larger windows over the bed and the table and bed got tested from the inside as well as the outside before he pulled the curtains closed, while the smaller windows by the kitchenette and bathroom only were prodded before he closed them off as well. He was so caught up with scouting the location that she didn’t even bother asking him to help her with unloading the car, simply dumped their bags on the bed before beginning to haul the groceries into the kitchenette.

It was probably a good thing the cats were being cared for elsewhere, it would have been impossible to keep them inside the cabin when there were so many interesting smells and sounds from the forest around it. At least that was what Callie tried to convince herself of, as she missed their furry company already.

James still wasn’t back from his scouting the area when she was done with the groceries and she decided to sit on the porch for a bit looking at the phone Natasha had handed her as they left. The burner phone was new, but the design looked like it was made ten or fifteen years ago. Callie had been using smart phones since most still came with a stylus, but there was something comforting about actual buttons on a phone. It was only to be used for emergencies and only to call Natasha or Rogers. If they weren’t able to get hold of them there were a list of other names coded into the contacts, some names she recognized and some she didn’t.

Her thoughts were interrupted as James came around the corner and sat down on the steps beside her.

“Everything up to standards?” she asked when he kept staring at the woods with a frown on his face.

“No. You still have your knife on you?” His voice as taut as his posture.

“Yeah. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. They must have wanted me uninjured.”

“No, I mean, are you _okay_?” She turned to look at him, making sure he got it this time.

He let out a deep sigh, rubbing the back of his neck hard enough to leave a red mark. “This place isn’t safe. If they come again, I might not be able to stop them.”

“You stopped them last time.”

“They didn’t expect resistance; otherwise there would have been more of them. Before I was just missing, now I’m AWOL.”

Even with the rays of the afternoon sun warm on her skin Callie felt cold. The certainty in his voice scared her.

“You need to learn to shoot a gun,” he said, stopping her from wondering what to say next. “There’s nowhere for you to run to out here. And it’s remote enough for you to practice without anyone hearing it.”

James got up without waiting for a reply and walked into the cabin, leaving the door open behind him for her to follow. He was rummaging through his arsenal when she caught up with him, weighing two guns in his hands before laying one of them back down on the bed.

“This is a Glock. It holds nineteen rounds, that should at the very least give you a chance to slow people down, if not kill them. Depending on the number of people,” he said, handing it to her.

It felt odd in her hand, neither as heavy nor as cold as expected; she tapped it with a fingernail.

“Is this plastic?”

“Polymer, stronger than most steel alloys.”

“Where’s the safety?” She flipped the gun from side to side looking for it.

“The trigger is the safety,” James answered patiently. “It won’t fire if dropped, but you better mean it when you pull the trigger.”

“That seems…unsafe.” She studied the gun more closely; the trigger looked like it had a smaller trigger coming out of it. It looked odd, but that had to be the safety.

“It’s not meant to be safe. It’s a gun, it was made to kill.” He picked up a newspaper Callie had got at the store and motioned her to follow him out the back door.

Once outside he pinned a page from the newspaper to a tree maybe six yards away and helped her with her stance. “Aim for the page.”

“That’s it?” Callie lowered her arms and glanced back at him. “Not ‘hit the image in the top left corner’?” Perhaps she shouldn’t be joking around when he was this tense, but it was that or let the worry churning her gut take over.

“Hit the page and we’ll go from there.”

Callie raised her arms again, sighting along the pin on top of it as he had shown her.

“Breathe in.” With him right behind her, his breath was hot and distracting on her skin. “Now release it slowly as you squeeze the trigger.”

She had been prepared for the kick, but it still made the gun snap up and her stumble back into his immovable front.

“The next time you’ll be ready for the recoil and it won’t hit you as hard.” He didn’t say that maybe then she would hit the page, but he didn’t have to.

She snorted at him, but then noticed the piece missing on the top of the newspaper. It wasn’t a clean hole, but the bullet had definitely grazed it.

“Hey, I didn’t miss it,” she said, pointing at the hole.

“Very good,” he said dryly. “Now try to actually hit it, instead of just glance the top of it.”

She didn’t answer, just sighted again, breathing in and out again deeply. The next hole was near enough to the center that she made a triumphant sound when she lowered the gun.

“Good.” He almost sounded like he meant it this time. The wry smile he flashed her when she turned to look at him meant she had to take a few seconds to collect herself before firing again. He _had_ to know what he was doing to her, she could only hope he appreciated her effort.

The clip was empty before he accepted that maybe, just maybe, working in a field that required a steady hand and a good eye meant she could handle the damn gun. She had tried different ranges and hit specific areas of the pages and while she didn’t always hit the precise target, she always hit the actual page.

 

* * *

 

The darkness came earlier to the cabin than in the city and it felt so much more oppressive. Not only were there no street lights and neon signs to light up the night, there were also so many things living in it out here, moving around, calling to others. They had been sitting on the porch after dinner, just talking, but the darkness covered the forest quickly, even for April. The sun had dipped below the tree line what only felt like moments ago before it was so dark Callie could barely see more than a few yards away. Times like this made it painfully obvious to her that she was a city person. Thankfully James didn’t mind going inside so soon in the evening.

Once inside she realized that she still hadn’t showered that day, as James had been okay with a cold shower earlier, while she had preferred to wait until there were enough warm water for a decent shower. It had been worth the wait.

After the shower a shadow caught her eye in the mirror and she tiptoed, twisting around to look at the back of her hips. There was a faint blue shadow of a hand, the tips of the fingers dark but the rest fainter, on the back of her right hip. As she prodded it there was some soreness, but only slightly. The back of her right shoulder showed various shades of fingertips too, even a few on her back along the ribs. The look of it shouldn’t have made blood throb between her legs, but it did, unmistakably so.

Exiting the bathroom wearing only panties pushed so low they were barely staying up, she marched over to James to stand between him and the bed, and turned her back to him.

“Will you look at what you’ve done to me,” she said, pointing to the marks, pulling her still damp hair to her front.

Callused, warm fingers brushed the marks gently, ghosting down her back and sending trails of fire down directly between her legs.

When he finally spoke his voice sounded husky. “I’ll have to make up for that, then.”

His fingers slipped around her hips to pull her back close, mouth kissing the top of her shoulder. It was a slow kiss, with his tongue dragging over the skin, making her push up against him harder. The t-shirt was soft against her skin, but she wanted something softer, something warmer, and she twisted in his arms, eager to have him next to her and more importantly inside her.

The shirt was quickly on the floor, but the pants put up more of a struggle when she tried to unzip them at the same time as he tried to open the belt. Impatient he pushed her back onto the bed and she fell with arms outstretched, face split into a wide grin. His pants and underwear were ripped down and kicked off along with his boots as he crawled onto the bed over her. Anticipation burned bright inside her as he hovered over her, supporting his weight on hands on either side of her, looking down with dark eyes.

“Just fucking come here,” she almost growled at him, gripping his head and pulling it down to a kiss. She raised her head as he lowered his and when they met it hurt, hard teeth under soft lips crashing together. But then his tongue was meeting hers, sliding over it, and the pain was forgotten. A sound somewhere between a sigh and a whimper escaped her as his right hand cupped her breast and he thumbed an already hard nipple.

James broke the kiss only to place a second kiss on her jaw and a third on her neck. Slowly, painfully slowly, he kissed a trail down to her breast, circling the nipple before finally taking it into his mouth. She bucked against him, lifting partly off the bed, whimpering.

This was probably revenge from what she had done to him the other day, but his fingers and tongue and mouth on her made it impossible for her to articulate the words to tell him to hurry the fuck up. Then his fingers trailed down her sides and hooked into the waistband of the panties, pulling them off and away. But he didn’t settle between her thighs like she wanted him to, instead he placed himself beside her with a wicked grin on his face. She could feel his cock, hard and heavy, twitch against her hip, but he was idly running his fingers up and down her inner thighs.

“You’re killing me,” she gasped, as one of his fingers grazed her already swollen and sensitive lips before going down the thigh again.

“I know,” he murmured into her collarbone, kissing and biting along it.

Yeah, this was definitely revenge.

And finally, finally, his fingers parted her lips, dipping into wet fold, setting her on fire. He moved them up and down, circling the clit before pushing two inside her and it felt like she couldn’t breathe. They were harder than she expected and she realized that it was his metal fingers moving in and out of her. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, fingers digging into the muscles of his back.

“Oh _god_ , Callie,” he breathed into her hair.

She tried to find his mouth with hers, but when she did, he pushed his fingers deeper inside her, his thumb hitting her clit, turning her kiss into a moan. He kept an even rhythm, fingers moving in and out, thumb brushing, circling, teasing. Her hips rolled to meet him, in a breathless struggle not to come yet, just a little while longer. Because this was so good, so perfect, she wanted it to last forever. But he crooked his fingers as he dragged them out of her and her eyes snapped open to meet his. And that was what made her lose control. His gray eyes watching her so intently it felt like a physical touch. She convulsed around his hand, mouth gasping for him, fingers digging into his neck.

James let his fingers remain inside her until she stopped trembling, and then slowly slid them out and up on either side of her clit, squeezing it slightly as he moved past. She bit his neck in response, and then let her lips lessen the sting, kissing it softly.

She reached down between them, index finger and thumb wrapping around the base of his cock as the rest of her fingers curled around his balls.

“No.” His voice was so deep it was nearly a growl and there was a predatory look to his eyes as he sat up and grasped her hips, thumbs hooking around the hipbones, sliding her into the middle of the bed with ease.

With a giggle she wrapped her legs around his waist as he positioned himself between them. He was taking too long and she lifted her hips from the bed pushing against him, to give him a clue-by-four. But his only reaction was a hooded, calculating look as he stared down at her, stroking his cock languidly.

“Okay, now you’re just being mean.” The pout was put-on, the impatience was not.

He leaned forward, his hands on either side of her shoulder, supporting his weight. Ever so slowly he flexed his hips, letting his cock push against her, but not entering her yet. A soundless moan escaped her and she raised her head to catch his too red lower lip between her teeth. His tongue burned her when it met hers. They had only been together for a short while, but they had fucking perfected kissing. With his tongue dancing over the soft underside of hers, he finally entered her.

There was a drawn out moment as her body adjusted to him before he began moving, and when he did she had to fight not to gasp with every stroke. Her hands couldn’t stay still, sliding up and down his back, weaving into his hair, and running up and down his arms. They were breathing each other’s air and it almost became too much when he pulled back from the kiss, head low and eyes closed in concentration as he slid in and out of her in a steady pace.

She made a sound that started out as his name, but ended in a hissing moan as he pushed into her so hard she was sure it would leave bruises on the inside of her thighs. His chest and neck was flushed, matched by the sweat she could feel beading on her chest and temples.

It was exactly the right speed and the friction hit her right where she needed it, if she just angled her hips up and pushed— Too much, it was too much and she was over the edge without a warning, tightening around him and digging her fingers into his back. James caught her mouth, swallowing her moans, keeping her centered on this precise moment. She hadn’t felt him move but suddenly he was supported on his elbows instead of his hands, his chest pushing into her with each shuttering breath, his hips forcing her down into the mattress with every stroke.

He made a low, desperate sound as he came, body tense and hips jerking hard against her, before he relaxed, letting his full weight bear down on her. If Callie hadn’t been carrying a good deal of it on her hips it would probably have made breathing difficult, but as it was she relished it. Then he pulled out and slid down next to her, his arm draped over her stomach, their legs tangled.

When her body stopped tingling, she took his hand in hers, intertwining her fingers with his metal ones. It was pleasantly cool against her skin, the touch gentle. She could feel his eyes on her and she took his hand up to her mouth, placing a gentle kiss on each finger and a longer one on the back of his hand. James was perfectly still against her, as if unwilling to let the moment end.

“I think that makes up for all my current bruises and a few future ones.” She turned her head to look at him and he kissed her, stopping her from making more dumb jokes. The kiss was slow and deep, making blood throb between her legs again. She was too tired to even think about doing anything about it, but she pushed against him lazily, enjoying the feel of his hard body next to her.

It wasn’t until she woke up in the middle of the night, that she realized that they had fallen asleep like that. Her head was pushed into the crook of his neck and she could feel his even breathing on her hair. One of them, probably him, had pulled a blanket up to cover them and it felt so good she was almost sad when sleep claimed her again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I recently realized that the gun safety line is more or less quoting Terry Pratchett's line on swords in Hogfather. I thought about taking it out or rewriting it, but I'll leave it in and urge people to read Pterry instead. Anything with Granny Weatherwax or Vimes. Night Watch is like one of my all time favourite book. /end ramble


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood clung to him like a second skin, making him equal parts terrifying and tragic. 
> 
> ************
> 
> You know how the story goes: Fucked-up former assassin meets girl. Girl likes FUFA and invites him to live with her. Doesn't invite HYDRA and they're pissed so they decide to gatecrash the party. All the usual stuff, cabin in the woods edition.

Of course his spot was empty when she woke again in the morning. It would have been nice to wake up next to James now that they had spend their first night in the same bed, but seeing him looking relaxed at the table almost made up for that. The fact that he was sitting there cleaning a disassembled gun only made her smile.

“Hey.” Her voice was still rusty after sleep and she had to clear her throat before continuing. “You up already?”

 “I don’t need as much sleep as you.”

“Yeah, I kinda noticed that.” She rubbed her eyes, yawning, and pointed at the coffee steaming on the table. “Can I get a cup of that too?”

After she had inhaled half the cup he got for her, Callie finally felt the cotton clear from her head. “So, any plans for today?”

“I’m going to upgrade the security around here and you need to keep up with your training.”

She put the coffee on the bedside table, wrapped the blanket around her, and walked over to stand right next to him. He looked up at her and she weaved her fingers into his loose hair, brushing it back from his face. While the home invaders had stayed out of her dreams as far as she could remember, this brought them right back. She looked away and took his metal hand in hers, stroking her thumb over the minute lines between the plates.

“I saw what you did to those people at my place. How quickly you killed them. With this.” She paused to kiss each finger in turn. “Yet when you touch me—“ She was interrupted as he stood up, slipped his hand from her grasp, and begun walking to the front door.

“James. Wait.” She followed him, sliding her arms around him, and leaning against his stiff back as he stopped with a hand on the door handle. “I’m not trying to set you off. I’m trying to explain, this duality… Look, I know how this sounds, but I like that I got to see the part of you. It seems more honest.”

“You only saw a glimpse of it and it reduced you to tears.”

“What I saw, was a man fighting for his life and his freedom. So what if I was shocked, they got what they deserved.” She pressed a kiss to his shoulder, feeling muscles slide under the thin t-shirt as he wrapped his arms around hers, head lowered.

“I’ll do my best not to be so useless if they come again,” she said and clung to him fiercely. With her ear against the top of his back she could make out the faint sound of air rushing in and out of his lungs as his chest rose and fell under her arms.

When he finally moved she didn’t try to stop him and he placed a kiss on top of her head before he went outside. It was probably for the better, she had to get moving too, establish a new routine and get to be familiar with the place. Her legs itched to go for a run in the surrounding forest.

It was a gray day, perfect for running. Not too hot and not too cold, and especially not raining. Callie liked rain, but she hated running in it as it made her cold and could make the track slippery, depending on the surface. She followed the trail behind the cottage that James had pointed out to her and estimated it had been a couple of hours when she returned, shirt and shorts soaked and thighs burning. As much as she liked running on the treadmill, it definitely wasn’t the same as running outside, up and down hills. Hell, as far as she knew then the wind resistance probably even played a part too.

James was boarding up the window above the bed when she walked back in after her run. The window above the table had already been closed off with sturdy two-by-fours across it as well as around it and planks filling the frame.

“That’s going to be taken out of the security deposit, ya know,” she said when she saw the massive nails he used to hammer the whole thing in place.

He didn’t answer and she went to the bathroom to shower without further comments.

 

A kind of morning routine was quickly established. She would go running for a couple of hours before breakfast and while James joined her some times, most days he would be off doing his own thing. She suspected it was because she was too slow for him and when she later began catching glimpses of him between the trees along her route, her suspicion was confirmed. He was too fast and too far away for her to track him, but on sunny days the glints of his arm made him easier to spot. Even if wasn’t around every time she went for a run it still made her feel good.

It was hard to admit, even only to herself, but things were probably best between them in situations like that, when things were purely physical. It didn’t matter if they were training, having sex or simply cooking, as long as they were working together they usually ended up synchronizing, each anticipation what the other would do without having to think about it.

Several times each day during the daylight hours, he would put her through her paces with the knife and doing exercises to strengthen her upper body as well. Callie whined about it as it was physically harder than anything she had done in her life, but it clearly paid off. The knife began to feel like a natural extension of her body and attacking with it no longer set off the sensation of wrongness it had before.

 

* * *

 

Removed from the city James’ nightmares seemed to have subsided, but his first incident during the daytime happened already on their second day there. Callie hadn’t thought much of it at the time until a few days later when she saw him again completely frozen, staring off into the distance. He didn’t snap out of it right away like he had the first time and when he did she couldn’t keep silent.

“Is everything okay?” The worry made her voice thick and when he just brushed past her she was unsure if she should follow or not. “James…” Her voice pleading.

“It’s nothing. I’m just… I’m fine.” He paused briefly, then shook his head and continued away from her.

Later in the day, after he had taken her up against a wall with her legs wrapped around his waist, he stayed with his head buried in the crook of her neck, fingers digging into her hips, as he held her. Like he was clinging to her and not the other way around. The sex had been good and just slightly desperate like it often was between them, but he usually relaxed afterwards and this was far from relaxed. Both hands were pressed into her hard enough that there would be new bruises in the morning.

“Hey, are you alright?” Callie stroked his hair lightly, trying to calm him with the repeated motion.

No answer.

“It’s okay if you’re not, but you need to tell me.”

“I shouldn’t have brought you here,” he finally replied, but still didn’t move.

“You didn’t bring me. I came of my own free will.”

“You know what I mean.”

“And you know what _I_ mean.” She pulled his head back gently, forcing him to look at her. “I chose to invite you in, and I chose to follow you. It was _my_ choice, not yours.”

He moved then, lowering her to the floor and looking down at her with eyes gray and distant.

“Too much is returning. Things better left forgotten. Things that they did to me, but also things that I did.”

He was close enough that the heat from his skin radiated on to her, but it felt like he was a thousand miles away.

“None of it is your fault.”

He moved away and begun pulling his clothes on with his back turned to her. Callie wanted to follow him and wrap her arms around him, but he had seemed so distant when they were actually touching that she wasn’t sure if the contact held the same significance to him right now.

James paused with the blue sweater in his hands, still facing away from her. “You don’t understand how easy it was to kill again. I was _good_ at it before. I still am.”

She closes her eyes then. It was exactly what she had feared, yet _not_. It wasn’t remembering things he had done as the Winter Soldier that disturbed him, it was realizing who he was as a person now. When she opened them again he was staring at her, face unreadable, eyes like mirrors.

With the distinct possibility that her voice would betray her, Callie cleared her throat before she spoke. “Did you enjoy killing those people at my place?” She ignored the urge to cover her body and moved closer to him. “Do you want to kill for the kick of it?”

He worked his jaw, but didn’t answer until she was right in front of him, staring defiantly up at him. Then he looked away and shook his head so minutely she barely caught the movement.

Her voice was soft when she continued. “Then stop making yourself into such a monster.”

“I was a killer before they made me the Winter Soldier.”

“Yeah, war tends to do that to people. Being a soldier doesn’t make you a bad person.”

It took a while for him to respond and when he finally did the regret in his voice made her heart ache. “It was easier when I couldn’t remember so much of it.”

“The ugly truth is always preferable to the comfortable lie. Believe me.”

His eyes met hers then, softer than they were before, and he caught a stray stand of her hair to push it behind her ear. The action comforted her, he only initiated contact when he was calmer, and never when he was so upset he thought he might hurt her.

She got him to talk about his memories then. She always enjoyed listening to James talking about his life before the war and he seemed to enjoy talking about it, the more he talked about it the more returned to him. But he seldom talked about his time as the Winter Soldier and when he did it was either while it was dark or he positioned himself in a way that she couldn’t see his face.  This time was no different. He managed to get her to rest against his chest on the bed, before she even noticed what he was doing. Wrapped in his long legs and arms, she settled against him, letting his words flow over her.

Callie very deliberately didn’t try to push him, only showed her support by words or touch. As before it broke her heart to hear about the things he had done and had had done to him, but if he could survive living them then she could damn well survive listening to them.

After a while he paused and she felt his chest rise and fall several timed with deep breaths of air, before he spoke again.

“I’m seeing enemies everywhere I look. Even when I know they’re not there. I don’t know if it was conditioning that kept med calm—“ he stopped abruptly. She had thought about it too and hadn’t liked the idea either. It was bad enough that he had probably turned up at her garage because some part of him remembered people there taking the pain from his arm away.

“Have you thought about taking Steve up on his offer? About living in Stark’s tower.” She hadn’t like the idea at the time either, but it was beginning to sound more tempting.

“Yeah.”

“And?” she prodded when he didn’t continue.

“Maybe.”

It wasn’t a yes, but it was better than the straight no she had gotten the other times she had asked.

 

* * *

 

The next incident came almost a week after they had arrived at the cabin.

They were in the kitchen preparing dinner, when tasting some of her less than successful stew James had made a face and she had clapped her hand over his mouth to keep him from spitting it out.

Callie had a split second to register the abrupt change in his face and body before she was flying across the room and slammed her back into the table to collapse on the floor. She was gasping for air when a cold metal hand closed around her throat tightly enough to render the gasps useless. There was death in his eyes and she couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, couldn’t—

And just like that, it was over. James’ face crumbled and he pulled her to him, burying his head against her shoulder, soundless sobs wrecking his body. She was almost glad he held her like this, it gave her time to her expression under control before he could see her shock and pain. Her fingers began combing his hair again, trying to calm him as much as herself. It was smooth under her fingers and the ponytail he had pulled it back in earlier had more or less disintegrated during the struggle. They sat there for a long while, wrapped around each other, before he quieted down enough to begin speaking.

“I’m sorry,” he began, and then had to pause to suck in air, hard.

“Don’t be, it’s not your fault,” she interrupted before he could continue blaming himself.

“Still sure you made the right choice?” he said, his head still buried in her shoulder.

“James,” she said with more force than she meant to and pulled back to grasped his face with both hands, pressing so hard the tips of her fingers went white. “I’m not going to suddenly pack up and leave because I fucking triggered you.”

“I could have killed you.” He was working his jaw, the muscles bunching.

I was probably true, but he hadn’t. He had stopped himself, again. When she pointed this out to him he didn’t answer, either unable or unwilling to argue it.

The thing was that her back might hurt like hell and she really wanted to cry, but she wasn’t the one who needed help. “One of these days I’m going to learn not to act like a complete moron around you. But until I do, please don’t worry about me. You’ve got enough on your plate as it is.”

“It almost makes you miss my nightmares, doesn’t it?” The corners of his mouth twitched down before he got his face under control again.

“Not really, no. I tend not to miss things that fuck people up.”

Callie managed to keep her anxiety at bay for a full day after that before she took the burner phone out of the drawer it was kept in and stared at it for several long minutes. Knowing that this wasn’t what it was supposed to be used for she put it away and refused to even look in its direction for several more days. After that she dug it out and dialed Laura’s number before she had a chance to change her mind, hiding in the bathroom while James was out doing whatever he did when he went scouting.

Her friend answered after three long rings, with a hard “Hello,” sounding like she expected a telemarketer.

“Laura?”

“Callie? Oh my god.”

“I’ve missed you.”

“Hey chica, I’ve missed you too.” Her voice was soft, almost pleading.

“Yeah, you know. Couldn’t say no to Marco.” It was Natasha who had prompted Callie for a list of contacts who would miss her when she went away for a few weeks. Work and friends had gotten a mail or text about a family emergency while her only remaining family, her brother Marco who lived in another state, got a story about her suddenly deciding to go for a second tour with Veterinarians without Borders in Africa.

“Mhmm. Thanks for the text, couldn’t give me a ring?”

 “I wanted to, but things have been kinda crazy.”

“I should really tell you something,” Laura said, sounding slightly guilty.

“What?”

“I’m having this affair-thing with someone you know.”

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to, it’s totally okay.” Transparent as fuck, _please keep secrets from me so I won’t have to feel bad about mine._

“It’s just that… I would like you to hear it from me instead of him. ”

But before either could continue Callie heard the front door open and decided to end the conversation. “I have to go. Talk to you later?” She hung up and stayed in the bathroom until her blush died down.

Yeah, she felt really fucking bad calling Laura like this, but she would have felt even worse if she had called James’ old friend behind his back asking for help. This conversation hadn’t exactly given her new ideas about how to help the PTSD suffering ex-assassin, but hearing Laura’s voice had done wonders for her nerves.

The rest of the day turned out better, at least it seemed so at first. The call had relaxed Callie enough to enjoy the training session James had suggested when she got out of the bathroom. It wasn’t like they had sex every time he trained her, but sometimes the next logical step after exercise was, like he had said almost two weeks ago, more exercise. If the blood was pumping, why not take advantage of the excitement?

They were on the bed, Callie on her back with James hovering above her when suddenly his arm stopped working and he collapsed onto her. She was helplessly trapped under him, but what made her panic was the way he convulsed. But before she had a chance to react, both doors were kicked in and people in all black combat gear streamed in. James finally reacted. Struggling to get up and when he finally did his bionic arm hung useless at his side while he was crouched like he was in pain. Of course it wasn’t enough to slow him down for more than a few seconds. The first guy within his reach was kicked so hard in the chest that he flew back and toppled the two behind him.

The crash startled Callie into action. She scrambled back on the bed, digging for the gun stashed between the mattress and headboard. The ones through the back door down were entering the room, but she forced herself to still before firing the gun. The shot was a few inches too far to the right to hit the heart, but it wouldn’t have mattered because he wore a bulletproof vest. _Fuck, fuck, fuck._ The head was so much harder to hit and they all wore helmets.

She could hear sounds of fighting behind her and she couldn’t let the rest reach James. They were all running for him, ignoring her despite the fact that she was firing at them. The next shot hit a guy in the neck and he went down with blood pouring between his fingers. But they kept moving and she couldn’t focus. The shots that actually hit their targets barely managed to slow the attackers down. And all too soon she was out of bullets.

The fresh clip for the gun wouldn’t snap into place, despite the fact that she could do it blindfolded yesterday and when she looked down it was the wrong way around. She was so fucking stupid, stupid, stupid. The sound of the door closing snapped her out of it and she turned to see James leaning against it, hair matted and blood running down his face. The smell of blood hung heavy in the air, metallic and sweet at the same time. There were bodies on the floor all around him, but that had just been the first wave, more were trying to force the door open again.

“Run,” he said through gritted teeth.

“What? No, I’m not leaving you.”

“I can’t protect you against this many. Go!” His last word was punctuated by a thump against the door, hard enough to almost make him lose his footing on the slippery floor.

“James.”

But the look in his eyes was enough to stop her pleading and she scrambled off the bed, only realizing when it was too late that she had left the gun as well.

The door opened and shut behind her and she didn’t have to turn to see that James had gone outside, the shouts and screams were telling enough. The way was clear though the back door, the forest beckoning not a hundred feet away, but when she ran for it she was pulled back and up against the back of the cabin.

Someone was saying no over and over again, and it took far too long before Callie realized it was herself.

 “It’s okay, Callie. You’re safe,” said Marco, smiling down at her. Her brother, her own fucking brother. “I’ve got you, Callie. I’ve got you.” He sounded like when they were kids and he had saved her from bullies in the school yard.

She didn’t get a chance to say anything before a soldier with a headset rounded the corner and snapped a salute at Marco.

“Sir, even with the switch he’s still not going down. I’m losing a lot of men, can we perhaps—” she was cut off before she could make her suggestion.

“Are you kidding me? You know we need him without major damages. That’s why we brought the extra men. Deal with it.”

The second they were alone again, Callie kicked Marco in the knee with her bare feet and tried to run for the forest again. While he clearly hadn’t expected her to do so, the surprise did little to help her. He pulled her back against the cabin again easily.

“What are you--” But he broke off before he finished the sentence.

She couldn’t look at him. This was Marco, her big brother, the boy who had helped her reach the cookies on the high shelf, the guy all the girls from her class had crushes on, the man who had been there for her when the world had turned to shit, despite the fact that it was also _his_ parents who had died.

“With your questions about someone with a metal arm in the neighborhood and when the asset stole the file on dad I though—” He cut himself off again, anger replacing confusion. “I thought he was holding you hostage. That you were in trouble!”

His fingers dug into her shoulders and he shook her hard enough for her teeth to chatter.

All the training James had put her through paid off in that moment. Without even thinking she curled her right hand into a fist and delivered an uppercut he would have been proud of, connecting squarely on Marco’s jaw. His head flew back from the impact but he never let go of her shoulders, shoving her back so hard that she connected with the wall, black stars clouded her vision.

This was a side of him she’d only seen a couple of times before, but that only made it that much more frightening. Fully aware that _he_ was controlling the situation, no matter how much she fought to reverse the situation, he looked down at her with a sneer. And that was when he finally took in the fact that she was only wearing a pair of small shorts and a sleeveless top. There had been a big sweater and boots earlier, but that had been discarded by James eager hands.

“You were with that – that thing? You allowed it to touch you?”

“Fuck you, Marco.”

 “He’s a weapon, an asset. Barely even human. What the hell is wrong with you?” He sounded more disappointed than mad, but the anger was growing.

 “Yeah, that’s what’s wrong with this situation. The fact that I’m with someone you don’t approve of. Nothing wrong with people being killed and you and dad being fucking HYDRA.”

It took a few seconds before Marco reacted, staring at her with narrowed eyes. “Oh, so you know about that now. I supposed I should have figured out that the asset would report to you, now that you’re taking so good care of him.”

It was probably a good thing he let his arrogance overrule his disappointment and anger, but the words still burned her. That was the thing about family, you knew how to get under each other’s skin or rather he knew how to get under hers. Everything she thought she knew about her family had been turned on its head.

 “You could come with me, you know. You could be useful to us.” He paused to let it sink in. “Don’t make the same mistake as dad did. I really don’t want to have to kill you.”

 “Make the same m—“ She stopped before she even got the word out. “You’re saying I get to choose between helping you control J—the “asset” or dying?”

“Of course you have a choice, you’re my sister, I owe you that much.” The easy smile was lighting up his face again, clearly believing he had made her see sense of the situation. He was the good brother now, leading his poor, delude sister to the straight and narrow. The fact that he had just admitting to killing their parents and now threatened to kill her as well didn’t even register with him.

It was like the clichéd calm before the storm. The panic and rage inside faded, her pulse slowed, and everything became crystal clear. All that was left was James’s voice calmly telling her ‘Wait until you’re close enough to touch, and then push the blade up from the top of the stomach. You can reach the heart that way easily and kill a man too quickly for him to react.’ And she slowly reached for the knife at the small of her back, hiding the blade along the inside of her underarm.

“Okay, I’ll come with you,” Callie said, even managing to smile a bit.

Marco smiled back and reached out for her, but as his hands closed on her shoulders, she shifted her grip on the knife and in one swift move jammed it up and in. Her knuckles thumped against his stomach before he even realized what she’d done. His mouth opened and he blinked at her once.

The seconds stretched like a rubber band before snapping. Then he staggered back, clutching at the handle. But he was dead before he pulled it out or made a sound, falling to the ground with a thud that rung out in the near silence.

It was then she noticed that the sounds of fighting had seized. She didn’t allow herself to think about the fact that Marco would never realize that his side lost again, that he would never—Nope, Callie cut that thought off and shoved it deep down inside with the voice screaming at her that she couldn’t be sure James had won, that she didn’t have a weapon anymore, and she was no match for trained soldiers.

Fortunately he was the only one still standing when she rounded the corner to the front of the cabin. He was going over the corpses, checking each with his remaining functioning arm. He should probably have looked vulnerable like that: barefooted, wearing only a pair of jeans, and nearly doubled over around his bionic arm. But blood clung to him like a second skin, making him equal parts terrifying and tragic.

Even through the pain James still heard her gasp and looked at her. “My arm. They did something to it. I can’t find the controller.”

Searching through the black clad soldiers, Callie spotted the one she was looking for a bit away from the rest, it was the one who had talked with Marco just a short while ago, or rather she spotted the headset, as she didn’t have a face anymore. The part of her that couldn’t stop looking at the near perfectly circular hole between the soldier’s brow and what was left of her jaw got locked away as well.

Secured to the wrist with a black lanyard looped around several times was box with a single dial on it. It wasn’t hard to figure out how it worked and she wrenched it from the max setting to zero so hard the dial almost came off.

Behind her James made a sound halfway between a gasp and a moan and slumped to the ground. When she reached him he was kneeling on the ground, but breathing easily again. Nothing in the world could have stopped her from kneeling next to him and wrapping her arms around him. Blood or no blood.

“I’m pretty sure I told you to run away.” The smile she couldn’t see on his face was evident in his voice.

“Yeah, well I tried to. But as it turns out my dad wasn’t the only HYDRA agent I knew. Not only was my brother one, but possibly my best friend too, unless he was just using her to spy on me.” Callie pulled back from the hug and sat down on the ground, staring out at the trees as the last few pieces clicked into place. “I really hope it’s the latter. She sounded so guilt-ridden when I talked with her earlier. Sorry. Didn’t mention that, but I’m totally the reason they tracked us here. I called her not three hours ago.”

“I’ve got the guilt trip competition covered. You can’t win that one,” he said, shooting her one of his wry grins.

“Well, that’s the good news. I was neck-deep in this shit before I even met you. The only thing you did was open my eyes to it. So you don’t have to guilt trip about that part.”

He pulled her up with him, before he started walking to the cabin, with her trailing behind.

As they neared the cabin, she blurted out, “My brother’s behind the cabin. So’s my knife.” She couldn’t even say his name in the same sentence as the word knife, let alone the word dead.

He stopped just inside it and pulled her closer. With a hand sticky with blood, he stroked the side of her face.  There was a frown creasing his brows and when she tried to smile at him the frown only deepened. “Hey, it’s gonna be okay.”

She clearly wasn’t holding it together as well as she thought since he felt it necessary to comfort her now.

 “Don’t worry, I’m still too much in shock for me to feel bad about it yet. I’ll let you know when it’s time by breaking down.”

Her second attempt to put him at ease with a smile was about as successful as the first.

“Put on some warm clothes and drink some water. It’ll help you later. Don’t eat anything though, it will only come back up.” He left her with a pile of her clothes and picked up the burner phone, before he went into the bathroom.

Through the half closed door she heard the sound of running water, and then James greeted someone on the phone.

“We’re gonna need to be picked up, within thirty minutes if you can manage it. HYDRA stopped by again. But the good news is you’re gonna get your wish about moving to Stark’s tower.”

He paused while someone on the other end responded. It could only be Steve.

 “If they had backup, they would have been here already. I took care of one who tried to call for help and we’ve probably got about an hour for more to be rounded up. It’s not like we’ll stick around, we’ll head straight north in a bit. Half an hour is plenty time.”

Another pause.

“Right, see you in twenty, then.”

She thought he had hung up when his voice came again, this time low and soft. “It’s alright, Steve, _I’m_ alright. Did wonders for me to kill again.”

James barely even paused before he continued a bit louder to drown out the protests. “I’m joking! But it does wonders for a man’s self-esteem to be invincible.”

A beat.

“Right back at ya, punk.” The chuckle was little more than a rush of air

There was a blood smear on the door to the bathroom, wet and shiny against the dark wood.  It was in the shape of a hand, with the fingers slightly smeared, but it still brought her back to more than three weeks ago when he had broken into the garage. The sound of running water didn’t help the feeling of déjà vu.

The door swung open easily and without a sound under her hand. Inside the bathroom, James looked up at her through the mirror, blood washed off his face even if his hair was still sticky with it. His eyes softened as they met hers and she knew that despite everything, she didn’t regret following her instinct back then. Not even later when everything she had locked up inside broke free. Because he was there, with his arms wrapped around her, holding her like she held him when his demons came calling time and time again.


End file.
